#honestly this is v self-indulgent fluff
Text
feel it in your bones
next part
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
words: 12.5k
summary: Two years ago, you finished your PhD and moved to Vermont. In the time since, you’ve gotten a job as a college professor, had your heart broken, and sworn off relationships entirely. Enter Joel, the father of one of your students, here for Homecoming Weekend – and too attractive to resist.
warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), alcohol consumption, fluff, smut, masturbation (f), mutual pining(?), sexual tension, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cumplay / cum eating, some light biting, use of pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, etc.), reader has an asshole ex, no use of y/n
a/n: my first Joel fic! This is honestly a bit self-indulgent but I love fall and academia and Joel Miller so sue me okay. ty to my bby @caffeinated-validation for reading through this and offering your insight -- get you a partner who will beta your filthy Joel Miller smut for you lmao <3
You’ve gotten used to being alone.
You don’t mind it as much as you had a few months ago, the breakup still fresh, every touch of your own fingers seering into your skin when you’d remembered the way he’d touched you, the sound of your voice almost unrecognizable as you’d convince yourself each day to get out of bed and go to work, where you’d inevitably run into him. It was painful then, having to come home to the quiet, always far too aware of the sound of your own thoughts drumming against the inside of your skull.
Now though, you revel in that quiet. Sip your coffee in silence each morning. You’ve learned how to stay lost in your work, bringing home stacks of papers to grade and eating through texts to support your research while your dinner gets cold on the table in front of you. You’re well aware that this isn’t the healthiest way to cope, to just avoid it all, but it’s better than feeling.
You’ve sworn off relationships entirely. It’s a silent promise to yourself – that you’ll remain married to your work. You will devote all of your energy to making sure your students excel and that your research is strong. That is your life’s purpose, to make use of the PhD you worked so hard to get – not to be someone’s girlfriend or wife. And you’re fine with that, really. You’ve become immune to loneliness – or numb, maybe.
Regardless, you welcome the independence. You don’t have to worry about anyone else’s thoughts or feelings when it comes to the way you spend your own time. You’re free to do whatever you want. You can draw yourself a bath, fill it with bubbles, sit in it while you drain a bottle of wine into your mouth until the water runs cold. You can eat an entire box of dry cereal in one sitting while you re-watch your favorite show for the twentieth time. You can make yourself cum at any hour of the night with your vibrator or your shower head or your hand – and then go to work the next morning without a semblance of guilt.
Really, you like being alone.
Until you don’t.
It’s Homecoming Weekend at Sarah’s school.
She had insisted that Joel didn’t have to come, that it was mostly an opportunity for the college to milk donations out of sentimental alumni. But he’d missed her for the month she’d been gone, the house far too quiet with just him in it. In previous years, Joel had busied himself following Sarah’s departure with home projects. Three years in, though, he’s updated just about every room in the house, re-done the floors, built a brand new back deck.
In other words, he’s fresh out of distractions.
So, he’d made the trek to Vermont, with the excuse that he’d always wanted to experience a New England fall. It’s a lie, one that Sarah can probably read right through, considering he vocalizes his discomfort whenever the temperature drops below 70 degrees in Texas, but she goes along with it.
Besides, he wants to see what his tuition money is paying for.
In truth, Joel had been nervous when Sarah announced what major she’d decided to pursue. She had just finished her freshman year, prerequisite courses all completed. When she’d said the word – anthropology – Joel hadn’t even been sure what it meant. Since then, she’s explained it to him many times and in truth, he’s still none the wiser. Really, he’s just happy that she’s happy. Her passion for it is evident on her face any time she talks to him about the courses she’s taking, how great her professors are.
Especially you – she talks about you all the time – her mentor.
You’re supervising her on her thesis project – a qualitative assessment on students’ views on feminism and gender politics in the classroom. This past summer, Joel swears Sarah had mentioned your name more than her own friends’. She’d told him what courses you teach, what research you’ve conducted, all the countries you’ve traveled to for fieldwork. And she gives the best advice – Sarah had said one night over dinner – she’s like, my lifeline at school.
Joel doesn’t know you, but he’s thankful for you – for the guidance you so clearly provide Sarah.
There’s an Open House today for the Social Sciences college, which Joel tags along with Sarah to. He’s hopeful that he’ll learn something, come to understand the field and why Sarah loves it.
A buffet table stocked with refreshments sits on one side of the lecture hall. Sarah grabs them both cups of water infused with cucumber while Joel saves them seats at the back. There’s a slideshow projected onto the white board at the front, the current slide reading: An Introduction to the Social Sciences College & Our Current Research Efforts. A group of professors gathers at the front, name tags stuck to their button-downs and blazers. Sarah spots you as she sits down, pointing you out as she hands Joel his water.
“There – that one’s my mentor – the one in the plaid pants.”
Joel’s eyes follow her finger to the group at the front, scanning down the line. There’s a man, short and stocky with noticeably small hands hooked by the thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. Next to him, is a woman, taller than him, wearing a bright turquoise silk shirt, gold bangles decorating both of her wrists. And next to her is you, in the plaid pants.
Sarah had told him a lot of things about you, but she’d never mentioned that you’re fucking gorgeous. You’re smiling at something Turquoise Shirt has just said to you, and it’s like your entire face is glowing. Joel has to take a sip of water to collect himself.
He doesn’t take his eyes off you for the entirety of the presentation.
The dean of the college starts by briefly covering each department and what research efforts they have planned for the semester. Joel should be listening, he came here to listen – but he can’t get himself to focus on anything other than you.
You’re mostly focused on the presenter. Every so often, though, you distractedly toy with the buttons on your cardigan or twirl a strand of your hair between delicate fingers. And Joel is suddenly realizing how touch-starved he is after years of refusing to date – because just watching you, your hands – is about to send him into orbit.
You’re well-spoken too, he learns, when you take the microphone to discuss your current research project.
“This semester, I’ll be delving into the presence of food deserts in Vermont, and the effects these are having on the overall health of youth in the state,” you say. “We have received a sizable grant for this research, and I am thrilled to get started in a matter of weeks. This project will span the better part of the academic year as I speak to locals and craft surveys that will provide qualitative data to support my findings from the field.”
You press down on the clicker in your hand. A new slide projects onto the whiteboard. It’s a photo of you against the backdrop of a jungle, lush, green trees stretching past the top of the frame. The wide-brimmed hat you’re wearing covers most of your face – but that damn smile radiates through the makeshift screen.
“This is me last summer, in Peru. My research here was much more self-indulgent – I studied the important role that food plays in the average family there – and ate wayyyy too many sweets.”
The crowd laughs. It’s the first reaction they’ve expressed this entire time.
It’s entrancing, the way you command the room. You have such a calm confidence about you as you speak, words never once faltering as you stride back and forth across the front of the lecture hall. Joel isn’t much of a talker – maybe that’s why he feels like he could listen to you for hours on end. He thinks that you could read the damn phone book and his focus would remain unwavering. That your voice, velvet-soft, could spellbind him without much effort.
When your portion of the presentation ends, he’s more than a bit disappointed.
Students and their families filter out of the lecture hall. You situate yourself in a corner of the room for the actual Open House portion of the event, at the ready to answer any questions or, more likely, offer directions to another part of campus.
You smile as familiar faces and strangers alike pass you, reach for your to-go mug on the table behind you, and take a sip. The coffee is pretty much ice-cold now, but you still gulp it down, only after the caffeine anyway.
You place the mug back down with a light thud against the tabletop. Suddenly, a voice you’ve come to know well rings in your ear.
“Professor!”
When you look up, Sarah Miller is bounding down the aisle, signature smile plastered across her face. And there’s a man behind her, you notice, moving much slower.
He’s tall, broad shoulders pulling taut against the green flannel he’s wearing. He cradles a beige workwear jacket in the crook of his bicep,corded muscle visibly bulging against fabric. His other hand rubs at the scruff along his jaw, pointedly sharp in the patches where hair doesn’t grow.
He has a distinguishable nose, you notice as he gets closer, strong – large and hooked at the center of his tan face. It’s complemented perfectly by his plush, pink lips that seem to be set in a permanent pout.
In other words, he’s handsome – almost distractingly so, as he stands next to Sarah in front of you.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she beams – turns to the man next to her.
“Dad, this is my mentor,” She says your name.
He nods. His eyes meet yours. They’re deep brown, almost black – and undeniably entrancing.
“‘‘ts nice to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Joel.”
Ma’am.
It’s not like the word is foreign to you, given your profession. There’s something about the way he says it, though, that makes your head spin, his southern drawl dripping in honey-butter and bourbon.
Joel outstretches a hand. You shake it – try to ignore the way it dwarfs yours.
“Joel,” you repeat, eyes locked firmly on the space between his eyes. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“That was a great presentation you gave up there. You’re a good, uh – talker.” His expression is unreadable. His hands fidget at his sides.
You offer him a smile. “Thank you – I think? My students probably wish I would shut up sometimes. Right, Sarah?”
“Oh please,” she scoffs, “as if you’ve never seen your rating on Rate My Professor.”
She’s not wrong – you pride yourself on having pretty stellar reviews – but you also try your hardest not to let them get to your head. Sarah isn’t helping that, right now.
“Anyways,” she exaggerates the word, “what are you up to tonight, Professor? They’re holding an exhibition at the art center later, all student work – d’you wanna come with us?”
Your reflex is to say no. After all, he’ll probably be there. Your ex, Quentin, works in the art history department. And even though you’re over him, you’re not exactly looking for an excuse to be in the same room as him. But you technically don’t have plans tonight, and you can’t even think of a good lie right now with Sarah staring you down.
And then there’s Joel, standing in front of you, all broad shoulders and chiseled jaw – and you think, what a great opportunity to get to know him, you know, as the parent of your student. Definitely not as anything else, anything more. It is Homecoming, after all.
So, you say yes.
“Cool!” Sarah smiles, “Meet you there at 7?”
You nod, tell Sarah that sounds perfect, and that you’ll see them tonight.
Sarah starts toward the door. But Joel stands there for a moment longer. His eyes linger on yours, his wordless stare threatening to burn a hole in your head. You can feel the heat of it, beads of sweat beginning to form at the base of your neck. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying your hardest to conceal them.
A beat passes. It looks like he might say something, his mouth opening then closing again.
He gives you a courteous nod, turns on his heels, and follows after Sarah.
Joel hadn’t remembered the food being this bad when he’d visited for orientation. He struggles to keep down a particularly rubbery bite of chicken and reaches for his water bottle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on not vomiting.
Sarah laughs next to him. “Hey man, at least you don’t have to eat this shit year-round.”
He grunts in agreement. “Gonna cancel your meal plan next semester and jus’ give you the money to buy groceries.”
She hums. Cocks her head. “That means I’m gonna have to learn how to cook – do you think Student Housing has fire insurance?”
Joel wants to roll his eyes, but it’s definitely his fault – after all, he can barely fry an egg without setting off the fire alarm. Their freezer has always been well-stocked with TV dinners and tater tots. So instead, he just shrugs.
“So what’s this art thing tonight?” He moves on to the salad on his plate, decidedly much safer.
“I don’t really know – my roommate asked me to go, she has some pieces in it, I guess.”
He nods. “And your professor – that was nice ‘a you to invite her.”
Sarah nods, smiles. “Yeah – you like her, right? I mean, you’re sure you’re cool with me asking her to come?” She asks, a mouthful of lettuce.
“‘Course,” he says, attempting to keep his voice level, nonchalant.
“I know you’re not really one for meeting new people,” she teases.
He mock-glares at her. It quickly softens into a smile. “Nah – she seems cool.” It’s an understatement, but Sarah doesn’t need to know that.
She doesn’t need to know that her dad is attracted to her professor.
Joel thinks that he might not have been so great at hiding it, though, when a few hours later, in the middle of watching an unarguably bad student production of Macbeth, Sarah turns to him and whispers that she’s not feeling well.
“Hm, is that right?,” he whispers back, unconvinced.
“Yeah, must’ve been the food.”
“We ate the same thing, Sarah.”
There’s a shout on stage. The actor’s voice cracks.
“Well I dunno,” she continues, “My stomach just doesn’t feel good.”
“Yeah, and what about that thing with your professor?”
He can see her smirk even in the dim lighting.
“Shit, you’re right. And I don’t have her phone number, so it’s not like I can text her...”
She groans. Joel thinks she should be on that stage right now.
“We can’t just ghost her.” Joel has no idea what that means. He doesn’t bother asking.
“Sarah-” he starts.
“Please. She’s such a nice lady, she doesn’t deserve to be stood up.”
He could say no. It’s not like he knows you, owes you anything. But in truth, Joel does want to see you again. And he’s well aware that Sarah might be trying to set the two of you up – ever-perceptive and hell-bent on her dad being happy – but he tries not to think about how embarrassing that feels, his daughter playing matchmaker for him. Because he wants to spend more time with you, get to know more about you, if you’ll let him.
He’s barred himself from forming any kind of real relationship with a woman since Sarah’s mother left. Not because she’d broken his heart, but because he’d needed all of his energy to go to Sarah. As a single father, he had always feared that he wouldn’t be enough for his daughter – wouldn’t give enough – that growing up in a broken home would leave her half of a person. That fear had fueled him to be the best dad possible – to work overtime so that he could provide for them, to never miss one of her soccer games or dance recitals. And so, he had never even considered dating, not seriously, anyway. It would take attention away from Sarah, and he couldn’t risk that.
He’s found it difficult to shake this principle, now that Sarah has grown up. He often grapples with the fact that Sarah doesn’t need him as much anymore – that she’s her own person living her own life. He knows he could date now, could meet someone new, open his heart to them. But he’s so used to fighting that human need for companionship, that it feels almost unnatural to let his guard down.
But now there’s you – your megawatt smile and your impressive intelligence and your care for his daughter – and suddenly he’s forgotten his own rules.
“Okay; I’ll go.” It comes out entirely too enthusiastic.
He can practically feel Sarah’s accomplished, shit-eating grin burning into the side of his head.
You leave campus around four pm, once the last of the Open House participants have gone.
You take a shower when you get home. Then you order sushi – stuff rolls of yellowfin and salmon into your mouth as you sit at the dining table still wrapped up in your towel, trying your best not to spill soy sauce on the half-graded essays that litter the tabletop. When you’re done, you retreat to your closet, treading on damp feet across the waxy hardwood floor.
And you definitely don’t think about Joel – not when you debate what to wear to the art exhibition, not when your fingers accidentally graze one of your nipples as you put your bra on, not when you get distracted while pulling your panties on by the pool of wetness that has formed between your thighs.
You definitely don’t think about him – because he’s Sarah’s dad, and that would be wrong.
So it’s accidental when his name falls from your mouth, fingers pressed against your clit, visions of large, calloused hands flashing behind your closed eyelids.
You cover your mouth with the curve of your palm to prevent it from slipping out again. Sink back into the mattress.
Then you press your fingers down harder.
Joel feels like a first-year student, wandering aimlessly across campus in search of the art center. Sarah’s directions had been, well, brief. She’d insisted he’d be able to find it no problem. Now though, in the limited light of dusk, all the structures look the same, bleeding together like watercolors against the evening sky.
He does find it, eventually, a three-story brick building tucked between the library and what looks to be a dormitory. Bright, artificial light seeps through the windows that line the bottom floor. The double doors at the front are propped open, people slipping in and out of them as he approaches.
He looks for you outside, searching for a familiar head of hair, the brown cardigan you’d been wearing earlier. When he doesn’t see you, he reluctantly makes his way up the stairs and into the building.
He spots you almost immediately affixed in front of a painting, studying it intently.
You’re wearing a different outfit than the one you had on this afternoon – a merlot-colored slip dress and a cropped leather jacket. He struggles to ignore the way the satin clings to you, the curves of your body excruciatingly accentuated. He has to remind himself that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, shouldn't expect you to stick around for long once he lets you know Sarah isn’t coming. You’ll probably make an excuse to leave shortly after, and he’ll be back on Sarah’s couch within the hour.
After all, why would you stick around just to talk to him?
You don’t see him when he sidles up next to you. He clears his throat and you startle.
“Sorry,” he brings a hand to the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to spook ya.”
You take a step back to face him and put a hand to your chest, your breath beginning to even. His eyes wander, for a moment, to where your fingers rest against your collarbone.
“Shit – it’s okay. Where’s Sarah?”
“She wasn’t feeling well, but she said I should still come. Is that – uh – is that okay?” He’s suddenly worried that this was dumb, that he shouldn’t have come, should’ve just let Sarah explain to you on Monday.
But your features soften then, a small smile forming between rosy cheeks.
“Joel, it’s fine; I appreciate you not ditching me.”
“‘Course,” he manages. He’s waiting for you to say something else – that you need to leave. But you don’t, and you both stand enveloped in the pregnant pause that lingers, bright overhead lighting and nerves giving Joel the start of a migraine he’ll have to ignore for the rest of the night.
He clears his throat. Turns to the painting in front of you. “So what’s this one, then?”
The painting in question is a mish-mash of shapes and colors. Joel can’t distinguish any one thing on the canvas. It’s all just a lot of…nothing. He knows it’s not for him when he thinks a preschooler with finger paints could’ve done this.
You bring your hand up to cradle your jaw, brows furrowed in contemplation. It looks like you’ll offer an actual, intellectual interpretation. So Joel isn’t prepared when instead, you say:
“Looks like a bad trip.”
A laugh bubbles out of him, the corners of his eyes creasing.
“Sorry,” you say, between giggles. “That was stupid.”
“No,” he says, swiping a hand over his jaw, trying to physically rub the embarrassing smile off his face. “You’re funny.”
He means it. He’s not sure how it’s possible that you’re funny, when you’re also so smart and interesting and gorgeous. It’s almost unfair. He thinks, fleetingly, that you’re way out of his league – a boring, old man like him.
You continue to the next piece, Joel following closely behind. It looks like it must be by the same artist. The same variation of shapes fill the canvas, just in different colors.
“Alright Cowboy, what’s your take on this one?”
Joel studies it for a moment – tries to find something he can pull out. Something tangible. Something funny, even.
He comes up empty.
“‘ts interesting f’sure. Lots of…colors,” he tries. He realizes how ridiculous he sounds. Laughs. “Shit…art ain’t really my thing,” he admits, arm stretched behind his head.
“So what is your thing?” Your voice is tinged with something – Joel tries his hardest not to let himself believe that it’s flirtation.
Your eyes are still fixed on the canvas in front of you. And Joel is thankful, because he thinks if you looked at him, let those eyes meet his, he’d break – tell you that right now, you’re his thing.
He doesn’t get a chance to answer either way, though, because he’s interrupted by a man’s voice behind the two of you.
“Wow. Didn’t expect to see you here!”
You whip around to face him. Joel turns too. The man is taller than you, but shorter than him. He’s wearing round, wire-frame glasses that sit like a suggestion on his nose, and a full suit, with a tie that has some god-awful, ugly pattern all over it. It looks like the art here, Joel thinks.
Joel’s eyes flit back to you, and he watches as your hackles go up. You back up, bumping into the canvas behind you. You curse under your breath.
“Quentin. Hey.”
“Glad you could make it,” the man, Quentin, says. He swirls a cup of what appears to be red wine in one hand. He leans in closer, brings the other hand up at the side of his mouth to conceal his words. “I know this isn’t really your scene.”
You shift uncomfortably. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m uh, venturing out, I guess. Trying new things.”
He laughs. It’s an asshole laugh, Joel notes. Everything about this guy screams asshole.
“About time!” The asshole puts a hand on your shoulder. You flinch. Joel’s hands instinctively bunch into fists at his side.
“So proud of you,” Quentin says. “Finally letting yourself be a little cultured.”
This guy can’t be serious.
You scoff. Grab his hand and flick it off your shoulder. He looks wounded. Good, Joel thinks.
“Yeah, because traveling the world has left me so very uncultured, Quentin.”
“Hey,” he puts his hands up. “Don’t take offense, baby. I know your little field trips are important, too.”
It’s the last straw.
In one movement, you’re pushing off the wall, shoving past Quentin, and making your way to the exit. Joel doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at the asshole, just follows after you out the door.
It’s gotten colder in the short time he’d been inside, he notices. A gust of wind nips at the exposed skin on his hands. He stuffs them haphazardly in the pockets of his jacket.
He finds you perched on the front steps, arms wrapped around your body protectively. He takes a few cautious strides forward. When you look up at him, you’re visibly distraught.
You groan as he sits down next to you. “Sorry. That was embarrassing.”
Joel wants to touch you, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but he knows he probably shouldn’t – not right now.
“‘ts not embarrassin’,” he says, instead. His warm breath materializes in the cold air. “Not for you, anyway. That guy was clearly an asshole.”
“Yeah,” you nod. “That was my ex-boyfriend.” You’re both quiet, then. The two of you sit there, side by side on the stairs, in comfortable silence. A few minutes pass. Joel notices you chewing on your bottom lip, like you’re considering something. When you speak again, your voice wavers.
“Would you want to go for a drink or something? It’s just, I really don’t want to be here anymore.”
For a moment, he can’t believe what he’s hearing – you’re asking him out? He takes a second to respond. You start to backtrack. “It’s okay if you don’t wan-”
“Hey,” he stops you. Makes sure you’re looking at him.
“I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.”
You breathe out a laugh. “Great.” Your hand drops to your side, brushing against his. He expects you to move it. He’s thankful when you don’t.
“I know a place–” you continue – “one that won’t be full of drunk college kids.”
“Great,” Joel parrots you. He stands, extends a hand to help you up. You take it, letting your palm rest against his for a moment longer than necessary when you’re upright.
“Cool,” you say, clearing your throat. You pull up the Uber app on your phone. Joel watches you book a driver. Then you turn back to him with a smile. It’s different from the one he’s seen before. It’s smaller, shyer.
“Larry will be here in 4 minutes,” you say.
The bar is a twenty minutes’ drive from campus – fifteen with Larry’s lead foot.
It’s more of a lounge than a bar, really – leather armchairs accompanied by low cocktail tables arranged throughout the single large, open room. A brick fireplace sits on the back wall, currently roaring with warm orange flames.
On either side of the fireplace are floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with vintage books, their illegible titles etched in gold along weathered spines. You can imagine that their pages are yellowed and dusty, and it’s so tempting to swipe one off the shelf to see, to smell.
The light in here is warm, a stark contrast from the bright white of the art gallery. It’s comforting, and you feel your body immediately relax when you walk through the entrance next to Joel.
The bar at the front is busy (it is Saturday night, after all), so you and Joel stand at the back of the crowd for a few moments, waiting for the people in front of you to get their drinks. When a group of men start forcing their way through right next to you, Joel immediately puts a large hand on your shoulder, turning your body towards his. He’s just being chivalrous, making sure you don’t get shoved, but it still sends a shockwave up your spine.
When a spot clears in front of the bar, Joel steps forward, bringing you with him. He orders a whiskey neat, then turns to you, asking what you want.
It’s difficult to think with his hand still on you, so you go with the first words that come to mind.
“Same as you.”
He stares at you for a moment, amused, like he can see right through you and the fact that you’ve never had whiskey in your life. But you hold his gaze, challenging him with your eyes, and he drops it. “Make that two,” he tells the bartender.
Once you have your drinks, Joel slaps a few bills down on the bar. You can tell he won’t let you do so much as offer to pay him back, so you don’t. You lead him through the lounge to a couple of chairs tucked away in the back corner, partially hidden behind an antique wooden partition – far enough from the main seating area, but still close enough to the fireplace that you can feel its warmth.
This is where you always sit when you come, usually with coworkers, once or twice with him. Quentin had been pretty critical of this place, like he is with everything. He’d complained that the wine selection could be larger – that they could have more French options. When you’d explained that most of their wines come from local vineyards, he’d just rolled his eyes.
You’re still reeling a bit from your interaction with him at the gallery, even as you settle into soft leather and feel a burst of warmth against your cheek. He was such an asshole, you think, taking a cautious sip of whiskey. You’re immediately repulsed by the taste of it, and you do a poor job of hiding the grimace that automatically spreads across your face in the crook of your arm.
Joe laughs across from you. “Not your thing? I can go grab ya somethin’ else,” he offers.
“No,” you insist, “this is fine. Just need to get used to it.” It’s a lie – you both know it – but he doesn’t push it.
Instead he leans back, swirls his own glass – which looks comically tiny in his grip – and lets out an exaggerated sigh.
“So, your ex is a real dick, huh?”
“You can say that again,” you mumble.
He quirks a brow at you. “Why’d you even date him?”
It’s a fair question. Why had you dated him? Loneliness, maybe? You’d like to blame it on that, but it’s not the truth – not entirely. Quentin had been kind, at first. He had seemed so interested in you and where you came from and what you were passionate about. He was a relatively good boyfriend, all things considered – until he’d grown tired of hiding who he really was.
You’d gotten a substantial pay raise at the end of your second year at the university. When you’d told Quentin, he’d gone quiet – practically gave you the silent treatment for days on end. When you’d finally worn him down, gotten him to talk, the most he could utter was that he was happy for you; he just wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gotten a raise like that yet.
It’s not like you were in competition – you worked for two entirely different departments, in different colleges. But it had been a constant losing battle nevertheless, to get him to stop comparing your successes. And when he’d found out you actually made more money than him – that had pretty much been the nail in the coffin.
You tell Joel all of this. You’re not sure why you do – it’s not like you can blame the alcohol after one half-sip of whiskey. You feel comfortable with him though, here, like this. He’s a good listener, too, attentively nodding every so often as you ramble.
When you’re done, he’s quiet. He stares at his drink, pursing his lips.
After a beat, he looks up at you.
“You deserve better than that, darlin’.”
You almost crumble under his gaze. His eyes are at least two shades darker than they had been a moment ago – and there’s something lingering behind them that you can’t quite place. Whatever it is has you feeling weak.
“You barely know me,” you joke.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I know enough, though. Could do much better than him, I reckon.”
You want to ask him if he has anyone in mind, if he would be better for you, but you can’t – not yet – not this sober. You take another sip of your drink, breathing through your nose as it burns its way down your throat.
You talk for hours. He asks about your family; you tell him how you moved out here two years ago on your own after you finished your doctorate program. He’s impressed by that, says you’re brave. You tell him you’ve never felt very brave.
It’s all so easy, talking to Joel in the dimly-lit bar you’ve been to so many times before. Sipping on whiskey as if you actually enjoy it. It’s never felt so much like home — not the bar, not this town. The thought is dizzying.
He asks about Sarah, too, how she’s doing in school. He insists that she doesn’t tell him much, and if she does, it’s about you and how great your classes are.
“I had never even heard of anthropology before she decided to study it,” he admits. “But I’m glad she did. It’s her thing, f’sure.”
You smile, knowingly. “Yeah, it is. She’s a great kid, Joel. You raised her well.”
He shakes his head humbly, but you don’t relent. You want him to hear this, really hear this. Because you get the feeling he hasn’t been told enough.
“She’s not just smart, Joel. She’s good. She’s a good person. That’s kind of rare nowadays — especially among her generation.”
Joel chuckles, his head hanging between his shoulders.
“I mean, shit,” you continue, “she brings me pancakes from the diner just off campus whenever she knows I’m stuck in my office working late. My other students barely even ask how I’m doing most days.”
Joel hums in amusement. His eyes are locked on a wrinkle in the leather of the arm of his chair.
“Joel,” you say, pointedly. You wait for him to look at you. When he does, his gaze is uncertain. “She’s a good person —“ you repeat — “and that’s because you raised her to be.”
“‘ts just southern hospitality, is all,” he mumbles.
“No Joel – it’s you.”
He stares for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing. His jaw twitches. And then he breaks, finally, a smile pulling at his lips.
“Thank you.”
His voice is so soft suddenly. It throws you off. It also turns you on – like, a lot, the gravellyness of it scratching your brain and your loins. You dig your nails into leather in an attempt to steady your quickening heart rate.
“No problem,” you mutter sheepishly.
Suddenly, there’s a buzz on the table – Joel’s phone. He picks it up, squinting at the bright screen.
“Sarah?,” you ask.
“Nah, ‘ts just my brother, Tommy.”
He types out a quick response and re-locks the phone, placing it back down on the table.
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah, jus’ asking if I think hookin’ up with a client is a bad idea,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.
You don’t know Tommy, but you like him already – seems like a fun guy. And clearly values his brother’s opinions. It’s telling, you think.
“That’s right – you’re a contractor. You and your brother work together?”
“Yeah, we got our own business back home.”
“And you like it?,” you ask.
“Used to,” he laughs, “when I was more limber.”
You laugh too. You can feel the heat of slight intoxication, and something else, in your chest, your inhibitions dissolving in your bloodstream. And suddenly that horrible idea you’d had earlier to flirt with Joel doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
“Still look plenty limber to me, Mr. Miller.” The words leave you before you have the chance to stop them.
Joel’s hands tense on either arm of his chair. Despite your buzz, you still have half a mind to worry that you’ve fucked up, that there’s a chance you’ve misread this whole thing.
But then he sinks back in the chair, the leather groaning under him. He rakes his dark eyes over you. And the way he’s looking at you is unmistakable. He looks hungry. You feel like your entire body has been set ablaze.
Without thinking, you stand up, take a couple of steps toward him. Scan the lounge. Most of the remaining patrons are huddled by the bar, talking boisterously among themselves. Tucked in your little corner, the two of you might as well be in a different zip code.
“Whatcha doin’, darlin’?” Joel smirks up at you as you stand unmoving in front of him. He takes one of your hands in his and traces gentle, reassuring shapes along the back of it with his index finger.
Without a word, you hike your dress up to your thighs and straddle him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his legs. He hums approvingly as you sink onto his lap and cup his face in your hands. He places his own on your lower back, just above your ass. “This okay?,” you ask. It comes out breathy and wrecked.
“C’mere,” he says in that syrupy drawl, and then one of his hands is on the back of your head, pushing you gently against him, your lips slotting to his.
It’s messy and all-encompassing. He kisses you with a fervency that confirms this hasn’t all been in your head –that he’s been wanting this too.
The voices of bar-goers and the clinking of glassware are suddenly muted. All you can focus on is Joel — the way he tastes like whiskey and cinnamon gum, the way one of his large hands comes to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers tangled in the hair there while the other remains on your back, steadying you. The way he licks into your mouth after a few seconds with a groan, causing you to reflexively bare down on his lap.
You feel his cock swell underneath you and you grind against it, laughing low and quiet against his lips when his entire body tenses. He pulls back, blinking up at you with glazed-over eyes. Joel, all six feet of him, looks wrecked.
“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants. He looks down at where you’re hovering over his now fully-hard cock. “Gotta stop. Otherwise you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like a damn teenager.”
You pout at him, lifting your lower half off of his. You don’t stand up, though – not immediately, anyway. Instead, you take his head back in both of your hands. He lets you, blinking up at you wordlessly.
You’d known when you’d first seen him earlier today that he was handsome, but right now, his face so close to yours – you’re seeing all of the little details – the scar indented in his forehead, just above his right eyebrow; the flush that stains his cheeks, which you can guess is partly from the alcohol, but maybe also from you. He’s biblically gorgeous, which makes it difficult to pry yourself off of him.
You do though, after a minute, smoothing down your dress once you’re back on two feet. You feel a bit breathless, suddenly. And exhausted.
What time is it?
You retrieve your phone from where it’s been lodged in the cushion of your chair.
You tap on the screen, waking it up.
12:47?! When had it gotten so late?
Joel stands, adjusting himself in his pants. You can’t help but giggle at him — big, tough man looking positively ruined after just a few minutes of being under you. You feel pretty accomplished. He rolls his eyes at you.
“Shut up — just get us an Uber.” You don’t miss the smile that sprouts between his cheeks when he thinks you aren’t looking.
You wait outside for your driver — John M.
The cold Vermont air is sobering. You feel almost normal by the time the car pulls up, save for the dull, throbbing ache between your legs. You will it away as you crouch into the back of the silver Nissan behind Joel. The sound of the radio playing soft rock hits is a poor distraction on the drive home.
“Wanna come in?,” you ask Joel when the car comes to a halt in front of your building. You watch him ponder it, eyes glued to the roof of the sedan. But ultimately, he shakes his head. “Can’t,” he says. “Gotta check on Sarah.”
You nod, try to hide your disappointment. “Right.”
You open the door. Just as you’re about to get out, Joel stops you.
“Wait,” he says. “Can I see your phone?” You’re confused, but you hand it over. You watch as he pulls up your contacts and clicks the ‘plus’ button in the corner, an understanding smile pulling at your lips.
When he hands the phone back, his contact now in it, you grab his from off the seat next to him and do the same.
“I’ll text you,” he promises as you step out.
You turn back to him. “You better.”
He’s smiling when you shut the door.
You’re smiling when the car pulls away.
It’s only when you’re tucked into bed, phone charging securely on the nightstand that the thought crosses your mind: you’re catching feelings for someone again.
And then you feel sick.
Joel wakes up the next morning feeling giddy. It’s like he’s a teenager all over again – waiting by the phone for a pretty girl to call him back. Only this time, he’s waiting for a text.
He had messaged you almost as soon as he’d gotten back to Sarah’s apartment last night, asking if he could see you again before he goes back to Texas. He has no shame about it, he can’t – not when his entire mind and body are consumed by his overwhelming attraction to you.
He’d found it difficult to sleep last night, and not because the springs in Sarah’s cheap couch were digging into his already-damaged back. It was thoughts of you, and the borderline-painful erection they caused, that had kept him up.
Now, with the sun seeping through the living room windows directly into his eyes, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to be awake. He checks his phone immediately, and tries to ignore the way his heart sinks when he sees you haven’t responded yet. You’re probably still asleep, he tells himself.
He tosses his phone aimlessly back onto the couch and stands with a groan. His legs feel worse than his back, if that’s even possible.
Sarah still isn’t awake, so Joel meanders into her kitchen, in search of something to eat for breakfast. It’s pretty much what you would expect from a college student’s kitchen – bare bones. There are a few suspicious containers of leftovers in the fridge along with a Brita water pitcher and a package of cookie dough. In the freezer, several cartons of ice cream (all chocolate) and half a loaf of bread. And finally, in the cabinets, a few boxes of mac & cheese and an unopened jar of peanut butter.
Toast it is, then.
Sarah appears just as he’s raiding her drawers for a butter knife. “Morning,” she announces sleepily behind him.
“Hey, Kiddo,” he says, turning to face her. “Hungry?”
“Yeah. There’s a diner down the street. Thought we could get pancakes.” She yawns.
Joel grins. That must be the place you’d told him about – the one Sarah brings you leftovers from when you’re working late.
“You buyin’?,” he jokes.
“Only in exchange for the juicy deets from last night.” She pauses. “Okay, maybe not all the deets. There’s some things I don’t need to know – like why you got home so late.”
“Sarah,” Joel warns, but she’s undeterred, smiling like a Cheshire Cat with every one of her unbrushed teeth on display.
“Just get changed,” she says, and skips out of the room.
You’ve been staring at the text for twenty minutes now.
Had a lot of fun tonight. Can I see you again before I leave? Let me know if you’re free tomorrow (today I guess). - Joel
You should say yes – you want to say yes – so why can’t you get your fingers to move?
It’s a stupid question. You know why – it’s Quentin and your inability to shake the fear that someone else will hurt you like he did. If you keep Joel at arm’s length – continue to ignore his message – he can’t do that. You can just take last night for what it was – a fun time, a hookup – and stop this before it goes too far, before feelings get involved.
Because it never ends well, once they do.
You get out of bed without responding, but you leave the text open on your phone. You attempt to busy yourself with housework and grading. Again and again though, you find your fingers hovering over the screen, your mind wandering to the way Joel’s lips had felt on yours, the way the bulge in his jeans had felt against your clothed heat, the sound of his southern drawl when he’d called you darlin’.
Then you snap yourself out of it and place the phone face-down on the table.
This goes on for hours, a vicious cycle. You feel your resolve slipping more and more each time you pick the phone up.
The sun is high in the sky by the time you break, light bathing your kitchen and revealing all of the spots you’d missed when you’d dusted earlier. Your phone is heavy in the palm of your hand like a bomb – like if you don’t hit send right now, you’ll lose the motivation and it’ll detonate, taking any chance of you seeing Joel tonight and not self-sabotaging with it.
You close your eyes when you press the button and toss your phone somewhere across the room.
Well – you think – no going back now.
Joel is sitting on cold, hard bleachers at the Homecoming football game when he sees you’ve responded, the shouts of people in the stands around him not enough to avert his attention.
Hey, yeah, that would be great! Do you want to come to my apartment later? I have a bottle of wine we can crack into if you’d like. And I can order pizza.
The announcer is saying something about player #72 over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t tune in.
Joel types his reply and sends it:
Sounds perfect. I’ll come over around 7?
Sarah groans next to him. “You wanted to come to this game, dad. If you’re bored already, can we leave?”
His eyes shoot up. “No, uh – sorry. Just had to answer one text.”
Sarah narrows her eyes at him. They dart to the phone just as another message rolls in, your name flashing across the screen before Joel can hide it.
“Is that my professor?”
Joel doesn’t answer. His silence confirms enough.
“I knew you guys hit it off last night! See, dad, even though you didn’t wanna tell me at breakfast, I still found out. I always find out. Because Sarah knows all.” She attempts a maniacal, Disney villain-esque laugh.
Joel raises an eyebrow at her.
“You done?”
“So you going out again later? Do I need to make your bed on the couch, or should I just not bother?”
He ignores her. Someone gets a touchdown and half the crowd goes wild. He doesn’t bother to check what team scored.
He opens your latest message, instead.
Perfect. See you then, Cowboy ;)
His breath hitches at the nickname, at the thought of you calling him that again in person. The thought of kissing you again, if you’ll let him.
He doesn’t catch who wins the game.
Joel arrives at your apartment at seven o’clock on the dot.
Punctual, you note.
He’s holding a bottle of wine, gripping the neck with long, calloused fingers.
“Know you said you had some already,” he says as he steps over the threshold. “Just didn’t wanna come empty handed.”
The sentiment takes you aback. You’re not exactly used to dates bringing you gifts, especially ones this expensive, if the minimalist yet fancy label is any indicator.
“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, taking the bottle from him. You can’t quite make out the name – something foreign, etched in cursive.
“‘ts Italian, I think,” he mumbles, as if he can read your mind.
Your eyes shift from the bottle to Joel, standing in front of you in his Carhartt jacket, brows furrowed, gaze trained on the floor at his feet.
“Thank you,” you say more genuinely this time.
Joel smiles appreciatively. You motion to the space behind you.
“Come in.”
You lead Joel to the kitchen, just off the entranceway, and place the bottle down on the counter, gently. You tuck yourself in the corner, leaning back to rest your arms on cool granite. Joel mirrors you against the adjacent island.
“How’s Sarah?” you ask. “Feeling any better?”
“Uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing at his scruff. “She was askin’ about you. Saw me textin’ you.”
“Yeah – guess you couldn’t exactly hide this from her, staying at her apartment and all.”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “Guess not.”
You pop open the bottle of wine. Pour glasses for both of you. Then you order pizza: one cheese, one sausage and pepper. The person on the other end of the line tells you it’ll be thirty to forty minutes.
“Gonna be a bit of a wait,” you tell Joel when you hang up. “Busy night, I guess.”
He nods, takes a sip of wine, and then places the glass down, his eyes unmoving from yours.
You realize then that he’d been staring at you the entire time you were on the phone. The way he’s looking at you – gaze the same as the one from the bar last night when you’d straddled him – has you feeling suddenly nervous.
“What?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Can I kiss you again?” he asks.
Oh.
You breathe out a laugh. It’s not funny – really, the opposite – but you hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. “Joel-” you’re going to say yes – fuck yes – but he interrupts you.
“Been dyin’ to since last night.” He’s so open, so earnest. It’s fucking hot.
“Joel,” you say again, louder this time. He freezes. His eyes widen, like he’s anticipating your answer.
“Please.”
It’s all he needs to hear. In an instant, he crosses the distance between you. He places his hands on the counter behind you, framing your body with his. You peer up at him and, fuck – he looks ravenous.
He kisses you – hard. His teeth crash against yours. It’s messy and hurried, but you don’t care – you want him closer, need him closer.
Your head swims with memories of the feeling of his bulge against your clothed core. The need to feel it again is all-consuming. You’re greedy for it. And with the time constraint, you don’t want to wait another second.
You pull back abruptly. Joel furrows his eyebrows where he looms over you, concerned.
“Joel,” you pant, “I need you.”
It takes him a second to compute what you’re asking. And then he’s nodding furiously.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay, darlin’.”
You pull him back in with a hand at the back of his neck, digging your nails into the skin there. His tongue slips into your mouth with a groan. You’re minutely aware of him shrugging his jacket off, hearing the light thump it makes when it hits the linoleum. And then his hands are on you, wandering up and down your body like he needs to feel every inch of you. He tugs at the base of your t-shirt impatiently.
“Off,” he mumbles against your lips. You pull back only to do as he’s asked, and then you’re right back on him, sucking a bruise into the skin below his ear, your body claiming him subconsciously. His head falls back momentarily, revealing his bobbing throat. You scrape your teeth lightly along the skin there, eliciting a groan from Joel.
Your mouth continues exploring his neck as his fingers find the clasps of your bra, unhooking them quickly and tossing it aside. You don’t see where. You don’t really care – you’ll find it later.
He grabs your now-naked sides and steps back, pulling you with him. Then he turns you and pushes you back against the island.
He slaps the countertop behind you. “Up,” he breathes against your neck. You don’t argue. You don’t want to argue. You’re so used to being the one in charge, the one in control — right now you’re happy to bend to Joel’s will.
You grip the edge of the island with both hands and hoist yourself up so that you’re perched there, legs dangling.
Joel’s fingers immediately go to the button of your jeans, popping it open before moving to tug the zipper down. And then he’s helping you lift your hips so that he can pull them down and off. He adds them to the pile at his feet.
You’re left in nothing but your underwear splayed out on your kitchen counter in front of him. You feel like you should be self conscious, maybe even embarrassed by your depravity. But you can’t find it in you to be either, not when Joel is slotted between your legs, his dark eyes scanning over you hungrily. Showing you he needs you just as bad as you need him.
He rubs his hands over your thighs and up the sides of your body, mapping your curves with great concentration. “God damn,” he whispers, what seems to be, mostly to himself. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”
You whine pathetically. Your patience is growing thin.
He smirks up at you, likely seeing in your face how desperate you are for him right now.
“‘ts okay baby, I got you,” he coos, suddenly sinking to his knees in front of you. His hands move closer to your clothed pussy, but not quite there, tracing light circles along your inner thighs. Then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, sending your hips bucking off the counter, chasing him.
The coarse hair of his mustache scratches the skin surrounding where he sucks and bites. You don’t care. You just want to feel it lower, against your dripping folds.
“Please,” you breathe, shakily. Through hooded eyes, you catch Joel’s satisfied grin. You realize then that he loves this — making you beg for it, for him. It’s a dizzying contradiction to the way he was practically begging to kiss you just moments ago.
He presses a chaste kiss against your skin, his lips infuriatingly close to where you need them most.
“Whatcha need, darlin’?” he purrs. The vibration of his voice just next to your core has you spiraling.
“Need your mouth,” you cry. “Please.”
“Where?” He nips at you, half an inch closer to your swollen clit. You can feel his breath. Your cunt reactively clenches around nothing.
“On my pussy, Joel” you plead.
He pulls away from you completely, looks up at you with devilish eyes.
“Good girl.”
He dips one finger into the side of your underwear, pulling them aside to reveal your glistening core. “Damn baby, you’re soaked,” he drawls. You catch the hint of pride that tinges his voice.
“Please,” you beg again, your voice wanton and broken.
Joel gently pets your throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb. The pressure he applies is feather-light, barely there. But still, after all the teasing, you can’t help the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes you.
He chuckles darkly. “Alright sweetheart, I know – enough teasin’.”
He hooks both index fingers in the top of your panties, pulling them down and off in one swift movement. And then his tongue is on you, exactly where you need it.
He holds you open with fingers digging deliciously into the meat of your thighs as he licks long, languid stripes from your leaking cunt up to your clit, over and over again until you’re a whimpering mess underneath him. You struggle to hold your weight up on your elbows, watching him as he works you with his mouth.
He’s so good at this – too good at this. You tell him as much, between broken moans.
“Sofuckinggood Joel – holy shit.”
You swear you can feel him smirk against your heat.
He buries his face into your cunt then, nose pressed against your clit, and swivels his head back and forth, coating his mustache and beard in your arousal. He groans against you, like this is getting him off just as much as you. It’s all so obscene, so filthy.
You’ve never had a man go down on you like this – like they actually enjoy it. But then again, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise, not when it’s Joel. You’ve quickly come to learn that he’s attentive in every sense of the word. Knows just what you want, what you need – evident by the way his lips latch back onto your clit when you keen for him.
He keeps his attention there, switching between suckling on it – which is enough to make you see stars on its own – and lapping at it with short, shallow flicks of his tongue. He experiments with different angles, licking at different spots on the bundle of nerves until he finds the one that makes you cry out, your babbles of there Joel, yes, right fucking there, don’t stop, letting him know exactly where to focus.
You feel yourself quickly hurtling toward the edge. You just need a little bit more to get you there.
“Fingers,” you pant. “Need your fingers in me.”
Two of his fingers are at your entrance before you can even blink. You’re so wet that he slides them in easily, curling them against your walls. He expertly finds your G-spot, massaging it as his tongue continues to lap at your clit.
You gasp at the combination. It’s so good – so much. “Oh my god Joel, I’m so close,” you cry.
He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even look at you. His eyes are closed in concentration, fingers and tongue unrelenting. He’s lost in your pussy. You can tell he’s not going to come up for air until he’s given you an orgasm.
And it doesn’t take much longer – one, two, three more strokes of his fingers and you’re cumming hard.
Your vision blurs and your ears ring in your head. You’re vaguely aware that Joel is pinning one of your thighs down with his free hand to hold you in place as you thrash against the countertop.
He fucks you through it, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continues to curl them against that spot, your clit throbbing against his tongue.
It is – without a doubt – the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.
He doesn’t stop when you’ve come down, eager to milk every last drop from your weeping cunt. The overstimulation is too much. Your grip tightens in his hair, weakly attempting to pull him off of you as you whimper nonsense above him. You manage to exhale his name, or something close to it, and he finally lifts his face.
His eyes meet yours, dark and hooded. He looks absolutely pussydrunk.
The entire lower half of his face is soaked with your slick. His shiny, pink lips pepper kisses along your inner thighs, smoothing over the spots he’d marked with his teeth just minutes ago. You feel so sensitive – you shiver under his touch.
His smile curves into your skin. He leaves one last light peck and stands up, grunting at the ache in his knees. You laugh, but you can tell by the darkness still looming in his gaze that he’s not done with you yet.
He helps you off the counter, steadying you with hands gripping your sides as you find your footing. Your legs feel like Jell-O, a welcomed side-effect of the earth-shattering orgasm you’ve just had. You lead Joel to your bedroom, leaving your clothes scattered across the kitchen floor.
He backs you toward the bed as soon as you’re in your room, lips latched to the side of your neck. The backs of your legs hit the mattress, and then he’s lowering both of your bodies onto it, cradling your head in his hand as you settle underneath him.
He sits back on his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head to reveal his broad, tan torso. You’re pretty sure you’re salivating, lost in the slope of his shoulders and the wide expanse of his chest. Your eyes trail lower as he undoes his belt, followed by the button of his jeans. He shimmies them off along with his boxers, his large cock springing free, tip shiny with pre-cum, and hovers back over your eager body.
He dips down and presses his lips to yours, prying your mouth open with his tongue. He’s remarkably patient for how hard he is, his erection pressing into your thigh as he kisses you, slow and wet.
One of his hands grips your jaw, the other pressed firmly against the mattress next to you. Minutes pass like that, you and Joel losing yourselves in each other. Then you remember that you don’t have all the time in the world – that your delivery driver could get here any minute. In truth, you’re not even fucking hungry anymore – not for pizza, anyway.
You snake your hand up to the back of Joel’s head, pulling at his roots lightly. “Joel,” you breathe when he lifts off of you, “please fuck me.”
He doesn’t have to be asked twice.
“How do you want it, baby?” he purrs in your ear, his warm breath skating over your skin. “How do you like it?”
You breathe out a moan. No man has ever asked you how you like it. They usually just give you a few sloppy, ill-timed thrusts, whatever they can muster before cumming and leaving you unsatisfied.
But Joel isn’t just any man.
“Hard,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me hard.”
He growls, low and dark. “‘ts right, sweetheart.”
He lines himself up with your entrance, rutting against your folds a few times to gather some of your wetness with the tip of his cock.
Then he sinks into you, slowly, stretching your walls as he notches further and further in. There’s a sweet, stinging pain, one you hope, fleetingly, that you’ll be able to feel tomorrow – like a keepsake from him.
You sigh when he reaches the hilt, his tip nudging your cervix. He stills, letting you get used to his girth and you have to dig your nails into his back to keep from writhing under him. You don’t mind if it hurts – you just need him to move.
“Please,” you whine, unable to stop your hips from bucking any longer. “I can take it, Joel.”
“Know you can, baby,” he coos, beginning to rock slowly inside of you. The pleasure is immediate, washing over your body like a warm wave.
He picks up the pace when he’s sure it feels good for you, dragging his cock halfway out of you and thrusting back in, over and over again.
He grabs both of your legs, bending them so that you’re spread wide open for him, and grips the backs of your knees tightly as he slams into you. He can get so much deeper like this, his cock hitting a spot you didn’t even know you had. You let out a labored moan, fingers anchored into his delts.
“Talk to me darlin — tell me how it feels,” he pants.
“So – fuck, Joel – so fucking good.”
Joel drops his mouth to your shoulder, nips at the skin there.
His voice is in your ear, a low snarl.
“‘Better than that fuckin ex, I bet.”
You’d be annoyed by his cockiness – if he wasn’t so right.
But he is, and so you parrot, “So much better.” And then, because it’s the truth, you add, “the best.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, his hips stuttering at your words. “Can’t say that angel, you’ll make me cum.”
He pulls out and slams back into you again, setting a new, devastating pace. He fills you up just to leave you empty, over and over again. You’re a babbling mess underneath him, couldn’t string two more words together if you tried. Luckily, Joel is happy to take over and do the talking.
“So fuckin’ pretty, babygirl. Make the most gorgeous noises, too.”
You’re so fucking close, you can only whimper in response. You feel your walls tighten around him.
He presses your foreheads together, his sweaty curls sticking to your skin. His eyes bore into yours.
“C’mon baby, show me – show me how pretty ya are when ya cum on this cock.”
He brings one hand down to your clit, rubbing sloppy circles over it as he continues spearing into you. You hike your newly-freed leg up over his lower back. A white heat licks at your spine. You barely have time to tell Joel you’re about to cum, your warning coming out a single cry of his name. He gets it, though, bringing you over the edge with his words.
“I got you, baby, I got you; you can let go.”
Your orgasm barrels through you, from the tips of your toes all the way up to your ears. Joel doesn’t let up his ministrations, talking you through it as you writhe under him.
“Thaaaats it. Good – ahh – good fuckin’ girl.”
The only word you can think of in your state of euphoria is his name, chants of Joel, Joel, Joel spilling from the back of your throat as you cum.
You’re squeezing his cock through your aftershocks, and you can tell he’s close by the way his thrusts become more and more uneven.
“Fuck – where do you want it?” he braces both palms against the mattress on either side of you.
“Inside – please, Joel,” you beg. “I’m on the pill.”
He curses in ecstasy, cumming seconds later with a series of low grunts. His hips stall as he spills inside of you. There’s so much of it – he’s nearly drowning your cervix, coating your walls with rope after rope of his spend.
He softens inside you, staying there for a long moment as you both come down from your highs. You’re sweaty, panting messes, and you can’t help but giggle at how spent you both sound.
“Good?” he asks, nosing at the space just below your jaw. It’s so soft, so gentle. Your stomach does a backflip.
“Yeah,” you say. “Really fucking good.”
He pulls out of you with a low, guttural noise. You sigh at the loss of him, your hand coming down reflexively to feel where he’s leaking out of you. His fingers graze yours, and he bumps them aside to scoop up some of your combined fluids.
He brings his wet, sticky fingers to your lips, humming when you immediately take them into your mouth and suck them clean, eyes unmoving from his the entire time. You bat your eyelashes at him, innocently as he pulls them out with a wet pop.
“Fuck,” he curses, “gonna get me hard again, angel.”
He lays down next to you, letting his head thump against the pillow, and flexes his biceps behind his head. You kind of hope he does get hard again, despite the fact that your whole body feels like liquid. Like if you were to try and stand, your legs would most definitely give out on you. They’re trembling right now, where you have them half-bent, heels dug into the mattress.
Your phone rings, then, snapping you out of your post-coital bliss. Fuck – the pizza.
You answer, trying your best to hide the undeniably fucked-out lilt of your voice as you tell the delivery person that someone will be right down.
Joel laughs next to you when you hang up. “I’ll get it – hold on.”
He jumps out of bed and dresses quickly. You’re gawking at him as he does. You can’t help it. This man – probably the hottest man you’ve ever seen – was just inside of you. You want to pat yourself on the back. He notices you staring as he’s zipping up his jeans and shoots you a wink.
Joel deadbolts your front door and disappears into the hallway. He returns moments later, shutting and re-locking the door, and strides back into your bedroom with both boxes. You can see the steam coming off of them through the cardboard.
He sets them down by your feet.
“In bed?” you ask, sitting up against the headboard.
“Well I’m not sure you can walk to the kitchen, darlin’.”
Your face heats. He has a point. But he doesn’t have to be so smug about it. You roll your eyes at him and mumble something nonsensical under your breath as you tuck yourself in under your duvet.
“What was that?” He quirks an eyebrow.
Long gone is the shy Joel from earlier this evening. He knows your body now, knows how hard he makes you cum. He’s a whole different man post-coitus – bolder. It makes you damn near melt.
And maybe you’re different now too. Because you’re pretty sure you’d give up your vow of solitude for him, if he asked.
It’s crazy, probably. You’ve only known Joel for two days, after all. But you can’t help the way that he ( and his dick) makes you feel. Like maybe there’s a promise of something down the line, however serious that something may be. You just know you want to give yourself the opportunity to experience it, no matter how it ends.
“Nothing.” You break, grin pulling tight at the corners of your mouth. “Just get me a slice of cheese.”
He lets his gaze linger for a second longer, the faux-threat of it heating you from the inside out. And then he’s vanishing into the kitchen, returning with two plates and a stack of paper towels.
He dishes up slices for the both of you, climbing into bed next to you and handing over yours.
He settles in with a content sigh.
You both eat in happy silence for a few minutes, Joel giving you a satisfied nod when he finishes up his first slice. “‘ts good,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.
“Right?” you retort. “It’s my favorite pizza around here.”
He hums in agreement. Pulls the box of sausage and pepper onto his lap to grab another slice.
“So,” you start, “you’re heading home tomorrow?” It’s more of a statement than a question. You know he is. But still, part of you wants Joel to say no, tell you that he’s canceled his flight, that he’s decided to stick around for a bit longer.
“Yeah,” he says. You feel your heart sink. You silently curse yourself for being delusional.
“Are you excited?” you try. “To be home?”
He doesn’t respond right away – his forehead wrinkling and his lips falling into a small frown. You watch as he thinks on it.
“Not really,” he admits after a few seconds.
“I know you’ll miss Sarah,” you say, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.
He peers down at you with a heavy sigh. “So much…” His voice trails off, like there’s something else he wants to add, but can’t.
The air feels thick, suddenly – heavy. You try your best to lighten it.
“Can’t stay a bit longer? Let Tommy run things for a while?”
“No,” he laughs. “Pretty sure he’ll just end up screwin’ every client we got.”
“And you’d end up screwing every one of Sarah’s professors,” you tease.
His mouth falls open in mock-offense. He grabs at both your sides, suddenly, letting the open box of pizza slide off of his lap and onto the bed. He tickles relentlessly just under your ribs, causing you to squeal and squirm under his grip.
“Joel,” you cry in between fits of laughter. “Stop!”
“I don’t think so, darlin’,” he tuts. He removes one of hands momentarily, to toss your plate aside, and then he’s hooking one of his legs over your body, straddling you. He looks so big like this, his body hanging over yours. You feel content – safe. His hands release you, finally, coming to settle on either side of your head on your pillow. You blink up at him. He’s staring down at you with narrowed eyes.
“What?”
“Nothin,” he mumbles. “‘ts just, I wouldn’t, ya know. Sleep with anyone else, I mean. If you didn’t want me to.”
Your breath catches in your throat. You know that if you respond, it’ll come out way too eager. So you just blink at him again.
“Would you want to keep talkin’ after I get home?”
Yes, you want to say. Please. I don’t think I could go on without knowing if I’ll get to see you again – fuck you again.
You swallow. Collect yourself.
“Yeah. I would.”
You shimmy under Joel so that you can sit up. He straightens out, shifting his weight onto his knees. Takes both of your hands in his and pulls you up.
His eyes are still locked on yours. “I know we just met this weekend,” he says. “But I had a lot’a fun with you. I like you.”
Your cheeks warm. “I like you too, Joel.”
He smiles. “‘m glad.”
“Doesn’t have to be anythin’ serious,” he continues. Lets his fingers trace aimlessly along the inside of your arm. “We can jus’ see where it goes.”
“Yeah,” you nod, your heart squeezing in your chest. “See where it goes. I like that.”
And it’s the truth. You do. In the stillness, your legs tucked under the covers, Joel caressing you, you feel, for the first time in a long time, happy to not be alone. And you know you will be again, very soon, when Joel leaves to go back home. But then again, you won’t – not really. His voice will be there, a phone call away, and his body will be there, in the divot he’s left in your mattress. And you’ll have the promise of taking this slow, seeing where it goes.
You’ve never been so excited for the future.
end notes: tysm for reading! I may turn this into a series if people want more of these two <3 lmk hehe
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller#tlou fic#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel x reader#pedro pascal as joel miller#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#fiiyb
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Consequences of Being a Brat
Eddie Munson Fic Incoming!
NSFW 18+, Minors DNI! Okay so this one is… whoo. A lot more intense than my previous fics. I know I said my next fic would be with Clarke Griffin from The 100 but I got smacked in the face with inspiration for this so, here you go. This fic is purely self indulgent and I pretty much made it just for my own desire BUT I am sure all you dom!Eddie lovers out there will enjoy it too. I honestly have no clue if The Magic Wand existed in the 80’s but for the sake of this fic, it absolutely did. The ending is super fluffy so please stick around for it too! Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed this, it would mean the whole entire world to me!
Word Count: 9,016
Warnings:NSFW 18+, Angst (very slight), Smut, Fluff, AFAB Reader, Aftercare, BratTamer!Eddie, Brat!Reader, Breath Play (one time near the end), Bondage, Biting, Potential CNC? (honestly I’m not sure if it is or not. Reader doesn’t want to accept punishment but it’s all a part of their brat/tamer dynamic and consensual, but as always, read at your own risk), Choking, Crying During Aftercare, Dom!Eddie, Degradation, Dacryphilia, Eventual Submission, Extreme Sensitivity, Face Slapping (Only a couple of times and it is not extreme), Forced Orgasms, Fingering, Humiliation, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Oral Sex (f and m receiving), Orgasm Control and Denial, Punishment, P-in-V (unprotected, wrap it up irl folks), Rough Sex, Sub!Reader, Spanking, Swearing, Squirting, Subspace (mentions of, it’s not super deep), Vibrators
Idk I feel like I overdo it with warnings sometimes but I want you to be able to read at your own risk and avoid your own triggers, I do not want my writing to cause harm! Only horniness and happy feelings! Anywho, here is my newest fic and I really hope you all love it!
Consequences of Being a Brat
The stage lights focused, the crowd hushed, and the electric hum of anticipation filled the air. Eddie Munson, with his shaggy brown hair cascading over his shoulders, stood center stage. His fingers started strumming his electric guitar as Corroded Coffin launched into their first song. In the sea of people, Eddie scanned the crowd, looking for one face in particular–yours. You never missed a single concert, and tonight shouldn’t have been any different. But tonight, no matter how hard he searched, you were nowhere to be found.
Where the hell is she? He thought to himself. As the concert reached its crescendo, Eddie’s mind wandered, his performance slightly faltering. Once the last note echoed through the quarry, Eddie rushed offstage. His heart pounded with a mix of post-performance adrenaline and concern for where you could be.
Back at home, I was absolutely fine. My coworker at the bakery asked me to pick up their shift, so I was working overtime and honestly forgot about the concert tonight. I was laying on the couch, lounging in Eddie’s Hellfire club shirt and black cotton panties while watching some cheesy horror flick. I was just about to get up from the couch to call in for a pizza delivery, when Eddie crashed through the door.
He looks absolutely frantic, making me feel instantly guilty. I totally forgot to tell him that I wouldn’t be able to make the concert tonight. Fuck. “Eddie, I’m so sorry! I had to cover Emily’s shift tonight and I completely forgot to let you know I wasn’t going to make it. I feel terrible.” I stand up to give him a hug, he looks like he needs it.
Eddie’s frustration softens, but is still very present. “You just forgot to tell me? I was worried sick, baby. I thought you were hurt.” He hugs me back tightly, before sighing and letting me go.
“I know, I know, Eddie. I’m sorry,” I say, stepping back as he runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. One of the rings on his fingers gets stuck in his hair and as he is figuring out how to get it un-stuck, I can’t help but giggle.
His head immediately snaps to look at me, questioning, “What’s so funny?”
I try not to, but I can’t hold back another giggle. “I can’t help it, you looked so worried.. It was kind of cute.” I know this conversation will get me nowhere but trouble, but my heart feels so inflated with how much he cares about me, I don’t even care right now.
His eyes close for a moment as he processes what just came out of my mouth, his tongue jutting into the side of his cheek. When he opens his eyes again, they seem much darker than they were before and I knew that my words had started something. His tone itself could cut through ice. “Excuse me? Would you like to repeat that? I’m just not sure that’s what you were really trying to say, sweetheart.”
His words shoot a shiver through my body and directly down to my core. He doesn’t call me that unless I’m really starting to push my limits. It’s a fucked up nickname because it’s way too gentle for whatever he’s planning to do to me.
For some stupid reason, the desire to provoke him becomes unbearable. “That is actually exactly what I was trying to say. You were so worried about me that you ran home and almost tore the front door off its hinges. It was absolutely adorable.” I put extra emphasis on the last word, a smirk playing on my lips.
His eyebrow raises at me as his arms cross over his chest, his fingers tapping his arm in an attempt to control his desire to put me over his knee right that second. “Oh yeah? Wanna make that hole you’re in a little deeper?” He takes a step closer to me until it feels like he’s towering over me, his face only inches from mine, and whispers, “Go on, say something else. I dare you.”
Those fucking words. Maybe on any other day, I would have just apologized and took a spanking or two. But daring me? Oh boy, today was not the day. I just got done with two fucking shifts at work in a row and okay, yeah, I can see why you’d be worried about me and now you’re mad that I’m mouthing off, but seriously? Fuck you, Eddie! I thought to myself.
Surprise registers on his face as his mouth opens slightly, eyes widening. Oh god. Did I just say that out loud? I look up at him and laugh nervously. “Is it too late already to say I’m sorry?” My voice is much more quiet than I mean it to be, but it’s too difficult to speak up when his eyes are on fire and it’s directed right at me.
He just stares at me, his eyes going from that teddy-bear brown to straight up black. He starts unbuckling his belt, pulling it from the loops slowly. My mouth dries out and for a moment, I’m frozen in place before the realization of what he’s about to do hits and I fucking bolt towards the bathroom so I can lock myself in there for a while until he calms down.
His hand quickly reaches out and grabs me by the wrist before flipping me around to face him. He grabs my chin and forces me to look up at him while his other hand continues pulling his belt from the loops at an agonizing pace. “And just where do you think you’re going? You really think you get to say that shit to me and then run off to avoid my belt? Really?” He can’t help but laugh at my escape attempt, but his laugh sounds empty.
I try to pull my face away from his grip, but it’s impossible. My nerves turn into anger and I suddenly swat his hand away from my face, my voice raising to a yell. “You can’t get me in trouble for this! I was just messing around, Eddie, can’t you take a fucking joke?”
The growl that escapes his lips is feral. He grabs me by the back of the neck and pushes me forward, forcing me down the hallway towards the bedroom as he bites back, “Eddie? I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to, sweetheart, but that is incorrect.”
I’m practically stumbling over my own feet, he’s pushing me so hard and walking too fast for me to find a good rhythm in my steps. I get shoved down onto the mattress face first, but quickly flip myself around and sit up, scrambling backwards to the opposite side of the bed. “Stop it! Eddie I said I was sorry, I was joking! Don’t do this, seriously.” My voice is definitely mixed with panic and anger… arousal is in there somewhere too, judging by the wet spot I know is coming through my panties right now.
He grabs me by my ankles and drags me back towards him, before flipping me over, scolding me as he yanks off my panties and giving my ass a few hard spanks with his hand to warm me up. “Let me get this straight. You are acting like a fucking brat, and now you refuse to take your punishment for it? Not only that, you know how you’re supposed to address me right now, yet you keep acting like you’re just my sweet little girlfriend and calling me by my name. But you’re not my sweet little girlfriend right now, are you?”
He doesn’t even give me a chance to respond to his questions, he just grabs his belt and uses every harsh spank with it to emphasize his next words. “You. Are. My. Bratty. Fucking. Slut.” I wince and whine at every smack, and then my hands fly back to cover my now-bright red ass for protection. He has no patience with me anymore, I can tell. He grabs my hands to pin them behind my back, which makes me groan out in frustration and panic, and without even thinking about it, I’ve kicked my feet at him and hit him right in the thigh. Thankfully it wasn’t a direct kick to the balls, but it was close. And now I’m fucked.
I look back at him as best as I can, and the look on his face sends another round of chills down my spine. I can feel myself getting wetter by the second though, fuck my life. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it!” I scream at him, squirming as hard as I could to try to get away, “I wouldn’t have done that if you had just let me go!”
He tuts at me from behind, sighing in disappointment. “You really need a lesson in obedience today, don’t you? I tried to just give you a few spankings with the belt. Just a few, and you just can’t stop making things worse for yourself.” He grabs me by the hair and yanks me up to sit, making me yelp. My shirt is torn off of me before a quick, double-handed shove sends me crashing back down. It’s not gentle, and I let out an “oof” when I hit the bed. He grabs me by my hips and flips me over again before getting onto the bed and straddling me so I can’t squirm away.
He leans over and grabs a piece of rope in the bedside table drawer before grabbing my wrists harshly. As he is tying my wrists together, he talks to me rather calmly, as if he’s explaining how two plus two equals four. “If you had just taken your punishment like a good girl, I wouldn’t be having to do this, sweetheart. But you just couldn’t shut your mouth, could you? And then you kick me? You actually kick me? Well, when this all gets too intense for you, just remember that you brought this on yourself. I tried to let you off easy, I really did. But now it’s time to face the consequences, sweetheart.” He sighs as he pulls my arms up to tie the other end of the rope against the headboard, acting like my squirming is literally nothing to him. The entire time he’s talking I’ve been doing my best to squirm, to look at him with pleading eyes, to whimper at him submissively like I know he likes, but none of it was doing a single thing to change his mind.
I suddenly notice just how naked I am, and just how clothed he is. It makes my thighs squeeze together as I try to hide just how fucking turned on I am by all of this. Am I terrified? Yes. Have I ever gotten in this much trouble before? No. Am I wetter than I’ve ever been before in my life? God, yes. When he is done with the ties, he looks down at me with his arms crossed against his chest again and his eyebrow raised, waiting for… something?
I look up at him for a few seconds, getting a little bit irritated by the way he’s sitting there and staring at me expectantly but not doing or saying anything. “What?” Oops. That came out harsher than I meant it to.
“Well? Are you going to apologize?” He demands. Why the fuck is my only urge when he looks like that to make him even more agitated? I know punishment is coming. I know he’s at his limit with my disobedience and attitude. And yet it’s just too entertaining to witness all of his reactions when I refuse to give up.
“No. You don’t own me, you can’t make me do shit.” I glare at him, shutting my eyes and pulling at the restraints slightly as I prepare for a slap. It doesn’t come.
I slowly peek one eye open and he leans forward, grabbing my chin in his hand so hard it hurts until I fully look at him, and then whispers, “Oh, but I do. And you’re going to learn that the hard way.” I can’t help but swallow hard, and my mouth dries out again. I have no clever response to that.
He crawls off of me and grabs the underside of my knees, yanking them open despite me trying to keep them closed. I knew I was a mess down there and I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that too. When he sees how wet I am, he lets out a whistle. “Damn, baby. You are such a dirty girl.” His fingers go right to my core, spreading my lips apart with two fingers, causing me to whimper and turn my face away from him because the way he’s looking at my pussy right now has my stomach doing flips.
He slides two his two fingers up and down my slit to wet them before shoving them both inside me, giving me absolutely no time to adjust before he starts pumping them in and out at a much faster pace than he normally warms me up with. I moan out as his fingers are sliding in and out easily. I can already hear how wet I am on his fingers, and it makes my cheeks flush at the sound. I can’t even help it at this point and I squirm at the sensation, my legs closing around his hand. Which, obviously doesn’t do fucking anything to stop him or even slow him down. He curls his fingers up once he feels my g-spot start to swell from stimulation, not only making a “come here” motion but also still bringing his fingers in and out of me at a vicious pace. I squeeze my legs tighter and my moans straight up sound like I’m in a porno movie or something.
“You are so fucking wet. I don’t even need to warm you up like this, do I? No, I don’t think I do.” He rips his hands away and leaves me whining at the empty feeling, but it is quickly replaced by the tip of his cock teasing my entrance. I don’t even remember seeing him take off his pants. He slides it along my slit and barely touches my clit with it, which makes me flinch. He slowly pushes himself inside of me as he grabs my hips so hard, I swear they’ll bruise. He leans his head back and groans at the feeling, but just a moment later he is pounding into me at an unforgiving pace. I look at him as my mouth hangs open, keeping eye contact as I’m unable to hold back my moans yet again. The speed of his thrusts mixed with just how turned on I am causes me to get closer to an orgasm much faster than I’d like to.
I absentmindedly try to wrap my arms around him for something to hold on to but the ropes promptly remind me that I can’t. As he feels my pussy starting to twitch and throb the closer I get to an orgasm, he grabs onto the back of my thighs and pushes my legs up and to the side of me, giving him a much better angle to hit my g-spot with every thrust. When he hears the sweet sounds I’m making at this angle, he starts pushing himself deeper and thrusting his hips even harder, practically slamming into my cervix every few thrusts. If it weren’t for how ruthlessly he was fucking me, I would be extremely distracted by the heavenly groans that were freely flowing from his lips right now.
I’m heading towards an orgasm so quickly, I barely have time to say “I’m gonna” before he pulls his cock out of me faster than I can realize what was happening. Right as I’m about to open my mouth to argue or whine at him for rudely stopping my impending orgasm, he brings his hand down to slap my pussy. The wet sound it makes mixed with the sting on my sensitive lips makes me arch my back and groan. He chuckles darkly and slaps my pussy again just to hear me make that sound again.
Then he gets right in my face, and his voice sounds like it’s practically an entire octave lower than usual. “Do you want me to make you cum? Hm? Is that what you want?” I know where this is heading, and it is not in my favor. I nod my head quickly at him, making my voice sound as submissive as I can manage right now, hoping it will work.
“Yes! Yes please, please make me cum! Please Ed-Sir! Please make me cum Sir!” When I almost called him Eddie, he looked like he was about to fucking lose it, so I corrected myself. There have been times before when he’s edged me for days without letting me cum, and I absolutely cannot take that kind of punishment right now.
He places his hand around my throat, squeezing tight enough so that I can’t easily speak and then slams himself inside of me again without warning. No sound comes out when I try to cry out from the sudden force. He speeds up and slows down in a repeating pattern until I’m quivering under him and he can feel just how close I am. He loosens his grip on my throat and has a devilish smirk while he says, “Say it again. Beg me. Say ‘Please Sir, please make me cum like the little slut I am.”
I balk at his words; my voice is caught in my throat and I even stop moaning for a second. I’m so fucking close to cumming though, my legs are shaking uncontrollably. He slaps both of my tits, hard, to jump-start my brain into saying something. “Fuck! Don’t make me say that, God, please just let me cum!”
A chuckle escapes his lips and he tuts his tongue at me in disappointment. He slaps me in the face suddenly. “God isn’t here, sweetheart. It’s just me. You just don’t want to listen, do you?” He says this casually, as if he didn’t just hit me. He pulls his cock out of me again, and I whine as my impending orgasm fizzles out again. He leans over and grabs more rope, silently tying my calf to my thigh and then tying the other side of the rope to the headboard. He does the same thing to my other leg, so that both of my legs are tied up and out of his way. I give the ropes a test squirm and become increasingly nervous as I realize just how little wiggle room I have. I can barely even move my hips an inch. Not good.
I want so badly to complain, to whine, to beg, to argue my way out of this. But as soon as my mouth opens, no words come out. Which is good, because the way he’s looking at me is telling me that now my punishment is going to really begin, and I am too nervous to make it any worse than it’s about to be. He reaches his hand out towards me and grips my cheeks in between his thumb and fingers, digging in. “You have been such a brat today, you don’t deserve an ounce of mercy, sweetheart.”
He lets my cheeks go with a bit of force, before aligning himself up against my entrance and slamming inside me again. I’m hitting the edge so fast, I can’t even help myself from begging, despite what he literally just told me about not deserving mercy. “Please! Please just let me cum. Don’t edge me again, please! Two times is enough, Sir. Please, two times is enough!” My voice sounds whorish, even I can hear it. The force that he’s slamming into me makes every other syllable sound strained through my moans.
“Oh, you think two times is enough?” He scoffs at me before pulling all the way out until just the tip is at my entrance, before slamming into me all the way and growling, “You think two times is all you deserve? You’re pathetic, baby. You don’t even realize how much you need me to break you, to put you in your place.”
He pulls out and slams into me again, his hands reaching up and pinching my nipples hard enough to make me yelp. He continues at this pace, keeping me right on the edge with his incredibly slow, forceful thrusts. “Now beg me for it. Tell me you want me to make you cum. Say ‘Please Sir, please make me cum like the little slut I am.’” He spits out the word “slut” with venom, his eyes don’t leave mine for a second. I’m so close, so needy, so fucking close that I don’t dare look away from him either.
I cry out in frustration, a “no!” escaping my lips before I can even stop it. I look at him desperately, about to apologize for defying him yet again and beg him to just let me cum, but he smacks my tits again and uses both of his hands to grip my throat. He squeezes just enough that I can still breathe, if I really focus, but there’s no way I can talk.
“No?” he repeats, an evil grin spreading across his face as he pulls out of me all the way again, and I think for a second he’s going to stop completely. “Well then, I guess we’re just going to have to keep going, aren’t we?” He leans in and bites the inside of my tit right next to my nipple so hard that I pull against the restraints and my eyes squeeze shut. He pushes himself back into me again, his pace so fast the bed sounds like it’s going to fucking break. I’m so close, so so close, and he knows it. He can feel it. “Don’t you dare fucking cum, babygirl.”
As tears start to spring to my eyes, he lets my throat go and places his hands on each side of my head instead. The second I can, I’m begging as best as I can, “Please! Please pleasepleaseplease let me cum, Sir I can’t take it, please!” My words are barely even words, they’re all mushed together and tangled in between moans. My entire body is shaking from being so close as I try my best to hold it back.
The grin on his face is sinister. “That’s more like it! Keep fucking begging, sweetheart. Say those magic words for me and I’ll let you cum.” His pace is unrelenting, giving me no option other than to hold back my orgasm, which he knows I can’t do for long.. Bastard, he isn’t giving me a choice anymore.
My breathing becomes ragged as I fight desperately not to cum, but I can’t do it anymore. My eyes fly open wide and just as I’m about to lose control, he pulls out of me all the way. I never thought I’d be so relieved to feel the sensation of my orgasm fading away. I immediately pout at him, my voice barely above a whisper, “I can’t say it, Sir.. It’s too embarrassing. Please, please just let me cum.”
“Oh, is it embarrassing for you?” He asks, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He wraps a hand in my hair, pulling my head up just a bit and putting his face very close to mine. “You think it’s embarrassing to beg for my cock? To admit that you’re mine and you’ll do anything for me to let you cum?” He slides his fingers inside of me, curling his fingers up towards my g-spot and fingering me violently, putting his entire arm into it, causing my hips to jiggle with the pure force of his movements. “Well, you’re gonna have to get over that embarrassment and beg me the right way, because I’m not stopping until you do, slut.”
Tears form in my eyes at his words and the fact that he’s yet again working me so quickly towards an orgasm. It’s making my brain start to go fuzzy from all of the edges, slaps, and harsh words. My mouth opens and I can tell that the moans and gasps coming from me are just entertainment for Eddie at this point, because he mockingly moans right back at me, then growls. “Yeah? That feel good baby?”
I can’t handle it anymore, all of my nerves feel like they’re being set on fire with how much I need to cum right now. I let out a single whimper in defeat, and my eyes drift away from him despite the fact that he’s holding my head up and forcing his face in mine. “Please Sir! Please make me cum…” the second half of my sentence is barely above a whisper, but I know he can hear it. “Like the l-little sl-slut I am.” My cheeks are on fire and I’m sure I am the color of a tomato after I finally say it.
He sighs with satisfaction, his smirk turning into a huge grin and he finally lets my hair go. Just as I think he’s finally about to let me cum, he pulls his hand out of me yet again. I squirm against the ropes and a single tear falls onto my cheek with pure frustration, looking at him with horror as if he just committed a crime.
“You’re not getting off that easy. Say it like you mean it, baby. Say it like you’re proud to be my slut.” He slides his cock back into me, both of us emitting a low, guttural groan at the same time. He barely gives me a second to hesitate before slapping me on my cheek again, his voice as sharp as a knife. “Fucking. Say. It.”
I gasp as he slaps my cheek again before letting out a mix between a moan and a whine in frustration from how torturously slow he’s going. His goal right now is just to keep me teetering on the knife’s edge of an orgasm. I finally give up and cry out, “Please! Please Sir, make me cum like the little slut I am, please! I can’t take it anymore!”
The smirk that crept back on his face was pure evil. “Good fucking girl!” he groans as he finally picks up the pace, pumping into me deep and hard and fast, slamming into my g-spot with every thrust. As my orgasm finally crashes into me, I practically scream. My back arches as much as it is allowed and I can still hear the sloppy wet sounds of him slamming into me over and over, despite how loud I am. My breath is stolen away from me with how intense it all is, all of those edges making this one orgasm almost unbearable. My limbs keep shaking and fighting against the rope even as my orgasm slows down because my pussy immediately feels overstimulated. My eyes look glossy as tears are filling them again and I can’t stop squirming. “Please stop, please stop, it’s too much! I came, I’m done cumming! Sir I came, now please give me a break!”
He chuckles at my predicament, leaning down and brushing his lips against my ear as he whispers, “You are mine to use however I want. I’m not going to stop until you’re a sobbing, blubbering mess.” The sound I make at this is in between a cry and a moan, since he is fucking me so hard and fast that I’m immediately being dragged toward another orgasm. The sound I make causes him to groan and add, “And even then, I might not stop. Not until I’m good and ready to stop watching you cum. You have been such a naughty fucking girl today, and I am going to teach you a fucking lesson.”
I cry out at his words in protest, hopelessly squirming against the restraints as he fucks me closer and closer to my next orgasm. The closer I get, the more uneven my breathing becomes. I look up at him, pleading with him desperately. “Sir, please don’t do this to me! I’ve learned my lesson, I promise!” I can’t help but squeeze my eyes shut, fighting hard to hold back my next orgasm threatening to hit me like a brick wall.
“I don’t believe you,” Eddie growls, thrusting harder as he feels me tensing up beneath him. He looks down at me heartlessly. “You’re going to cum for me. Right now.”
As soon as he tells me, no, fucking commands me to cum, I’m seeing stars. I can feel his eyes locked on my face, committing the look of pleasured agony on my face to memory. My moans are stuck in my throat with the intensity and my entire body is shaking and twitching and squirming. The sounds coming from his cock slamming into my pussy is fucking filthy. As my orgasm slows down, my limbs go limp and I am panting hard, trying like hell to catch my breath.
He finally pulls out of me, leaving me twitching and whimpering from how hard I just came. My eyes flutter open at him, thanking him wordlessly for finally giving me a break. As I lay there with my chest heaving, believing he’s going to actually have some mercy on me, he lets his eyes trail down my body and fall onto my pussy. More specifically, my swollen and twitching clit.
The sight makes him look at me like he was just given a new favorite toy. “Oh look, your poor little clit is just begging for my attention. I’ve been so mean to neglect it!” He slowly glides his fingers down my thigh, looking into my eyes and chuckling, “I hope you didn’t think I was done with you, sweetheart.” He quickly removes his own shirt before ever so gently sliding his fingers up and down my folds, before landing on my clit and gently circling it, but not quite touching yet. He leans down and kisses my chest, working his lips all the way down to my pussy, ignoring every one of my whimpers. He places a single, very gentle kiss directly on my clit as a warning for what’s to come, making me jerk and squeal.
“Please Sir, my I’m way too sensitive for this!” I beg, a full pout on my lips. “I’m too sensitive..”
Eddie laughs in amusement at my protest. His tongue darts out to flick at my clit, making me gasp and jerk my hips again. “Oh baby,” he breathes, “You’re always too sensitive for me.” He smirks and flattens his tongue, slowly licking from the very bottom of my entrance to the top of my clit, making me squirm and whine, unable to peel my eyes off of him. He suddenly pulls back, bringing his hand down to slap me 5 sharp times on my pussy, which makes me throw my head back with a long groan and flinch with every hit. “I don’t remember asking for your fucking opinion, though, slut.” He leans back down, placing his lips directly over my clit and sucking just barely, before rolling his tongue slowly. He only gives me about 2 seconds of soft touches before starting his assault. He violently lashes his tongue against my clit, then starts sucking hard, rolling his tongue with force.
I squeak and jerk, before ungodly sounds start falling from my mouth. My arms and legs pull against their restraints and I do my very best to buck my hips away from his ministrations. I’m babbling nonsense and moaning lewdly, already fully overstimulated and he’s barely even started eating me out.
He groans at the sight of me squirming, sending vibrations through my clit. He’s unable to stop himself from groaning out some more as he hears every one of my incoherent babbles for mercy. He keeps going at a steady pace, pushing me close to another orgasm. He could spend days down there, the sound and sight of me right now just too sweet for him to not enjoy every single second of it.
I’m internally panicking as I near the edge of another orgasm. My breathing is fast and shallow and I can barely get a single word of my begging to actually sound like a real word. “Please, please no this is too intense! I can’t!” I pant out, praying he can understand me between my moaning and panting and how much I’m stuttering through my words.
Eddie chuckles darkly at my pleas, happy that he’s got me exactly where he wants me. He pulls back just enough to lick a long strip up my entire pussy again and looks up at me with a smirk. When I look back at him, I gasp slightly. His eyes are fucking black, his pupils are so huge that all the pretty brown in his eyes have disappeared. There wasn’t a single ounce of leniency in his features. “You can’t handle it, huh?” he taunts, laughing. “It’s too intense, baby?” He pouts at me mockingly, using his fingertips to gently rub my clit, keeping me from getting a real break, but I’m grateful to be able to catch my breath at least.
I whimper at him pathetically and nod, looking at him with tears threatening to spill out of my eyes. “Yes! Please, please no more Sir, it is too intense, it is! I won’t be able to handle cumming like this!” My words are flying out of my mouth as fast as I can say them, hoping beyond all hope that he listens to me this time.
He watches me intently as I beg and the tears threatening to spill down my face are obvious, but his eyes don’t soften one bit. If anything, they seem to somehow darken even more. He shakes his head slowly, his lips curling into another sinister smile as he whispers, “Oh, it’s so cute when you beg me like that. I think you’re finally starting to learn your lesson in respect.” And with that, he returns his tongue to my clit, thrashing it cruelly against me and wrapping his lips around, sucking and rolling his tongue to elicit more sweet, desperate cries from my mouth.
I let out a strangled moan as soon as he continues, and my orgasm hits me almost immediately. I struggle and thrash against the restraints, this orgasm feeling 100 times more intense than the others. Tears fall onto my cheeks as the pleasure turns into pure torture, words lost in my throat yet again as all I can do is scream and moan and take it.
His tongue works up a frenzy, not giving me a moment's rest as he forces my orgasm to be drawn out as long as he can. When I finally come down from my high, he looks up at me to see my ruined face. Pink cheeks, tear stains, red and swollen lips from how much I’ve been chewing on them. His hand moves to gently rub my pussy lips, licking his lips at the sight of me. “That’s it, my little slut. You belong to me. I can do whatever I want with you. Right?”
His question is a test, and I am desperate to pass with flying colors. “Yes! Yes Sir, I belong to you! You own me, please!” I look at him with pleading eyes, a few tears leaking down my cheeks again as my legs tremble uncontrollably.
To my utter relief, his eyes finally soften towards me and he smiles up at me. He pulls himself up to kiss my lips gently, slowly sliding two fingers inside of me, thrusting them deep and hard, but slow. “That’s it, good girl. I’m so glad to see you’ve finally learned your manners, baby.” He pulls back to watch me, enjoying the sight of me being so submissive as he slowly slides his fingers in and out of me with force. After a minute or so, he talks gently to me. “I’m going to leave you tied up, sweetheart. I know you’re being good now, but you understand that I have to finish your punishment, right? I can’t let you off the hook just because you’re finally being my good girl.”
I’m so grateful that he’s finally being gentle with me that it takes me a good few seconds to process what he says. My eyes are glossed over and my brain is so fuzzy; I can feel myself drifting into subspace with every passing moment. He can see it in me too, he knows me so well. I sniffle when I finally realize what he’s said and he’s expecting a response, slowly nodding my head. My voice is hoarse from all the sounds I’ve been making. “Yes Sir. I’m sorry Sir.”
He hums, visibly pleased with my response. “That’s better baby, I know you are.” He pulls his fingers out of me before standing up, turning towards the night stand again. He opens up a drawer and pulls out my arch nemesis: The Magic Wand. I can never handle that without begging and sobbing for mercy, even without it being a part of a punishment. Even when he tries to be nice, it’s always too much.
He turns back towards me, searching my face for any sign of resistance, just to make sure that I really have learned my lesson and I plan on being a good girl. The second I see the wand my cunt clenches and I let out the tiniest whimper, gulping nervously. A single tear falls down my cheek again and he brings his hand up to wipe it away. “I know baby, I know.” He says softly before turning around and plugging it into the wall.
The moment he turns back around and switches it on, he presses it against my clit, watching every single expression on my face. I jerk against the restraints and feel like the wind has been knocked out of my lungs. He bites his lip for a second before groaning out, “Ohh, that’s it baby. Feel that?” I can only whine at him in response, struggling to keep my eyes on his but somehow I manage, although tears are threatening to spill out any second from the overstimulation. “You’re going to cum so hard for me, aren’t you baby?” He presses it into my clit more, making tiny circles, causing me to cry out and arch my back, my entire body pulling against the restraints whether I want them to or not.
“Yes!” I cry out in response to him, although it barely sounds like a word. My entire body feels like it’s being electrocuted, and I can’t help but shake violently as I’m being thrust into an orgasm within seconds of him asking. A scream rips itself out of my throat and I feel like I’m going to explode. Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he hears me, groaning out, “That’s right, fucking scream for me.”
I feel like this orgasm is never going to end. My vision is going black, or maybe my eyes are just squeezed shut, I can’t even tell anymore. The way I scream is absolutely primal, tears rolling down my face and my crying turns to sobbing. My entire body is full of electricity and suddenly, I feel it. My body is fucking convulsing (as much as it can against the rope, anyway) as fluid starts squirting from my pussy. I feel it pool up underneath me and I hear a gasp and a groan from Eddie. “Thaaaat’s it baby, look at you fucking go!” he sounds like he could cum just from the sight of me. As soon as it ends, he finally turns the vibrator off and pulls it away. I feel like I can finally fill my lungs with oxygen again.
When my eyes open, Eddie and I stare at each other with the exact same look of utter shock on our faces. That’s the first time I have ever done that. His look of surprise is short-lived though because when he sees the mess I’ve made on his hand, he drops the vibrator to inspect his hand in the light. He licks off every finger with a smack of his lips and a wicked fucking grin on his face. My face is frozen still, especially after seeing him do that. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes, staring down at me with a mixture of awe and something wild in his eyes.
I close my eyes and a few more tears fall out onto my cheeks as my breathing is still a bit ragged. I feel his hands gently wipe away my tears and he whispers, “Baby, look at me.” My eyes flutter open halfway, nibbling my bottom lip. “Color?” He asks, his eyes look so warm and caring at this moment. I lean into his hand on my cheek with a tiny smile and a sniffle.
“Green.. I promise I’m okay. That was just… I don’t know if I can do that again.” I shake my head at him to emphasize my words, but I feel much more grounded after the check-in.
He smiles gently at me, nodding back as his expression softens. “I know baby, I know that was a lot. But you’re doing so well.” He puts two fingers under my chin, making sure my eyes stay trained on his so that I really hear every word. “You can do this, sweetheart. I know you can.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead before lifting back up, a stern expression on his face again. “Now. I want you to repeat after me. Say ‘Please Sir, I want you to make me cum like that again.’” He watches me closely, licking his lips as he waits for my response.
I close my eyes as he kisses my forehead, nodding through his encouragement. But my eyes fly right back open with his last demand and my voice gets caught in my throat again. Even as fucked out and obedient as I am now, my heart rate spikes at the thought of having to do… that again. Still, I swallow hard before somehow forcing the words out. “Please, Sir… I want you to make me cum like that again.” My lower lip is quivering as I whimper the words out.
He groans as I say this, his cock twitching noticeably. His lips suddenly crash into mine, kissing me roughly. As he pulls back, he’s got that wild look in his eyes again as they trace over every inch of my body. “That’s my good girl. I’m going to make you cum one more time while I use that throat of yours.” He climbs onto the bed again, facing away from the headboard and putting each of his legs on either side of my head. I open my mouth and stick my tongue out, the heavenly sound of his own moan flooding my ears as he slowly lowers himself into my mouth, making sure to glide himself all along my tongue on the way in. He pumps his cock in and out of my mouth at a steady pace, slowly working its way towards my throat. After a couple minutes of this, he feels himself getting close to his own release. He leans over and grabs the wand again, turning it on and growling, “Get ready, slut. Knock on the headboard if you really need to breathe.”
He shoves his cock deep into my throat and I can’t help but gag, struggling to breathe through my nose and relax the muscles in my throat. “Fuck!” he groans out, before he pulls the hood of my clit back, something he knows is the most cruel thing he could do, and presses the wand firmly into my clit. Every single muscle in my body cries out in agony, begging to be allowed to squirm away from the sensation. I try to scream out but it makes me gag, and I lose my ability to breathe at all as my lungs refuse to work anymore from all of the stimulation. Too much stimulation. My brain feels like it’s short circuiting. Just as my lungs are starting to burn from lack of oxygen, I cum somehow even harder than I did the last time. I feel like I’m on fire and being shot up into icy space at the same time. I can’t move, I can’t scream, I can only cum. Once again, I feel myself start to squirt, and it all becomes too much. I start gagging on him again, and I hear him fucking whimper before groaning. His cum shoots down my throat and I have no choice but to swallow it.
He turns the vibrator off and throws it to the side, pulling his cock out quickly as I gasp for breath, taking in huge gulps of air as he makes quick work of my restraints. He slowly guides my arms down and gently rubs my shoulders, then helps me close my legs and gently rubs my hips. He whispers, “I know baby, I know,” as I wince from the pain of finally being able to move my limbs and them being so sore.
The second he looks me in the eyes and is about to ask how I feel, my vision goes blurry and I’m confused for a second before I actually realize I’m crying again. I can’t stop it though, my body is so exhausted and my brain is so fuzzy and every part of me is buzzing and sore. He instantly wraps me up in his arms, cradling my head against my chest and kissing my head. “Good girl,” he whispers to me, and his voice back to the normal, sweet and kind Eddie I hear every day. “You are such a good girl, I am so fucking proud of you, baby.”
This was easily the most intense punishment I have ever been through, and he knows it. I’ve never squirted before in my life. I can barely even hear him whispering reassuring words to me over my own ragged breathing and sniffles, but I do notice that I am clinging onto him for dear life. He holds me close, rocking me gently back and forth. He kisses me on the top of my head again, and his voice starts to soothe every ounce of unrest in my body.
“Shh, shh.. It’s okay baby, I know it was rough, that was a really hard lesson. But you did so good.. I’m so so proud of you, baby.” He slowly takes his hand off of my head, leaning back enough so that he can wipe away the tears on my cheeks with his thumbs. Then he cups my cheeks in his hands and kisses all over my face. He starts at my forehead, then my nose, then both of my cheeks, and over my eyes. He is so gentle with every kiss, and about halfway through my tears stop falling and a little tiny giggle escapes my lips.
I open my eyes to look up at him and his heart breaks when he sees my eyes red from so many tears and my cheeks absolutely covered in tear stains and blotchy pink skin. “Was that too much for you?” he whispers, talking so softly, as if his tone itself could blow me away if it was too loud or firm.
I smile softly and shake my head, still sniffling but just barely. His eyes look so pretty, I could get lost in them and never want to find my way out. His eyebrows are furrowed with concern and I can see his eyes scanning my every feature to make sure I really am okay. My heart swells about a thousand times its normal size. “No, it wasn’t too much, Eddie. It was so, so good. It was easily the most intense thing I’ve ever felt in my life, but it wasn’t too much. I promise. I just need lots of love now, okay?” I smile at him again with a little scrunch of my nose, trying to make extra sure he knows I really am okay.
Eddie lets out a shaky breath but I can see the relief on his face as he brings my head into his chest again, holding his hand there to cradle it as he tickles gentle circles across my back with his other hand. “I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. I’ve got you. I love you so much.”
I close my eyes again because the sensation on my back feels like heaven. I mumble into his skin, “I love you too. So much, Eddie.” I start trying to regulate my breathing, every deep inhale brings his delicious scent of woodsy musk and cigarettes. Once I feel like I’m returning back into a normal headspace, I pull back a little and show him my wrists and point to my legs. They’re still red and indented from the rope. “Can you help these feel better please?”
He smiles softly down at me, his eyes and fingers running over every single mark on my skin, before nodding. “Of course, baby. Let’s go into the bathroom and I’ll take care of you.” He gets off the bed before picking me up and helping me wrap my legs around him. I press my face into his neck and wrap my arms around him and can’t help but smile. I could honestly live like this, in his embrace. Smelling his skin. His hair tickling my face. Feeling his chest against mine. It’s all perfection.
Once we get to the bathroom, he slowly puts me down and spins me gently to face the mirror. He looks into it at me, smiling and petting my hair to smooth it down. “There’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs, “You are so perfect.” My face turns a bright ride and I hide my face in my hands, unable to help myself.
“Eddie!” I giggle out. He always knows how to make me smile and completely fluster me at the same time. I gently peek at him in the mirror through my fingers, his smile is so sweet as he watches me. He chuckles at my reaction, gently placing his hands on my hips and spinning me around to look at him. I lower my hands and stare into his eyes, practically entranced.
“You’re so cute, baby.” He smiles and kisses my forehead again, bringing each of my hands into his and up to his lips, kissing each one so gently. He guides me over to sit down on the toilet seat, before turning to the tub and turning on the water. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, yeah?”
As I sit down and watch the tub start to fill, I nod and lean forward to rest my head against his side, wanting to never stop touching him. “Yeah…yes please, I’d love a bath.”
We wait in silence for a few minutes before he checks the temperature. Deeming it perfect, he grabs my hands again to help guide me towards the tub. As I sit down and relax into the water, he smiles at me and says, “Ahhhhh, that’s better, isn’t it? Feel good baby?”
I nod and smile up at him and watch as he grabs the shower head to bring it down. He sits down next to the tub, turning on the shower head and he is so careful about wetting my hair without letting water drip onto my face.
He takes his time, massaging my scalp slowly and with the perfect pressure as he shampoos it. After another few minutes of silence, I hear him starting to hum one of the songs from that Black Sabbath album, Master of Reality. I can’t tell which song it is, though. My eyes start to droop and I giggle a little at the end of the song as he’s slowly rinsing the soap out of my hair.
“You’re going to make me fall asleep if you keep this up, you know. Warm water, massages, and music? You’re spoiling me, Eddie.” I say, my eyes closed still to make sure no soap or water gets into my eyes as he rinses my hair off.
He chuckles softly at me, pressing a kiss to my now-clean hair. “I could do this for hours, baby. Plus, you deserve to be spoiled. Trust me.” I sigh in content and lean into his kiss, feeling utter bliss in the calm of the moment.
Once he is done making every inch of me nice and clean, continuing the whole time to give me praise and making sure he is absolutely as gentle as he can be, he drains the tub for me and helps me stand up. He wraps me in a towel and gives me a great big hug, and it takes him a few seconds to let go. He picks me up again, bridal style this time, and brings me back to the bedroom despite my giggling at him that I am able to use my feet again.
“I know you can, but I’ve got you baby, don’t you even worry about it.” He presses another kiss into the side of my head, which is probably the thousandth kiss of the evening. Not that I’m complaining for a second. He helps me get dressed into my comfiest pajamas and then dresses himself in boxers and a random t-shirt. He turns to me when he’s finished, cocking his head at me with a smile.
“So…I call for pizza, you pick the movie?” he asks, already reaching for the phone. Yeah… I’m so spoiled.
-------------------------------------------------------
Tag Request: @tlclick73
--------------------------------------------------------
Copyright Disclaimer
All content on this post, excluding the images and characters, is the property of the blog owner and is protected by United States and international copyright laws.
You may not copy, reproduce, distribute, modify, publish, or create derivative works from any material on this website without the express written permission of the website owner.
If you violate the terms of this copyright disclaimer, you may be liable for damages, including but not limited to reasonable attorneys' fees.
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie stranger things#Eddie Munson Stranger Things#Stranger Things#Smut#Stranger Things Smut#Fanfiction Smut#Fanfic Smut#Fanfiction Writing#Fanfic Writing#Stranger Things Fic#Stranger Things Fanfiction#Eddie Munson Fanfiction#Eddie Munson Fanfic#Stranger Things Fanfic#Eddie Munson Fic#Stranger Things Eddie#Stranger Things Eddie Munson#Eddie Munson x Reader#Eddie x Reader#Dom!Eddie Munson#Dom!Eddie#BratTamer!Eddie Munson#BratTamer!Eddie#Sub!Reader#Brat!Reader#Dom/Sub#Brat/Tamer#Female Reader
178 notes
·
View notes
Text
˚₊‧୨୧ A LOVE THAT’S SO JUVENILE !
[૮₍ ˃ࡇ˂ ₎ა]: blue lock characters as your high school sweetheart ! v self-indulgent bc the high school sweethearts trope is adorable + imagine how nice it would be if u experienced happy romantic stuff like this to balance the stress and disgusting vibe of school :'(
tags. various bllk x gn!reader, 846 wc, fluff, potentially ooc rin, not proofread
ISAGI has a tendency of slipping notes in your bag/your locker as your sweet boyfriend in high school ! he's the type of guy who prefers to keep a low profile on his relationship, which is a reason why he likes to communicate with you through folded sticky notes that contains his heartfelt messages ! at the end of breaks, isagi would covertly slip a folded love note into your bag before he makes his way to his own class. there's a smile on his face when he looked out the window, wondering how you'd react when you find his note that's comfortably tucked into the pocket of your bag.
did you wear a new shade of lip gloss today? it looks pretty on you <3 meet me at the usual spot for lunch. i want to give you something :))
BACHIRA is the type of boyfriend who refuses to leave your side ! he's very clingy, and you can tell that he wholeheartedly loves you since he's always beside you. if you two have classes where you're not together, he'd pout a bit, but quickly recover and whispers in your ear that he'll wait for you outside your classroom when class finishes. everyone in the school knows you're dating bachira — he's announced it to half the school once you accepted his invite to take you out. bachira is quite touchy too — he doesn't kiss you in front of his schoolmates, but he definitely holds you hand a lot, and hugs you a lot. he's a bit of a jerk since he finds enjoyment in teasing you for how cute you are !
CHIGIRI is affectionate in the most subtle ways, and you adore that about him. the both of you like to keep your relationship private — only your friends and his friends know, so he's a bit bolder with his touch when you're with your close peers. around friends, chigiri would take a seat beside you and takes your hand from underneath the table, smiling at you when you greet him. in the mornings (when your classmates are around too), chigiri makes sure to drop by your classroom to give you your favourite drink from the vending machine — it's his way of telling you to have a good day ahead of you ! at the end of every class, you'll find him leaning against the wall as he waits for you to come out into the hallway, and takes you to your next class before walking to his own.
NAGI'S relationship with you can be described as quiet — you're beside each other at breaks, and if possible, in classes too, and he follows you around school. people know you and nagi are dating, but they don't make a huge fuss over it (which nagi prefers, honestly). you and nagi spend most of your time indulging in each other's presence, and nagi likes it when you rest your head on his shoulder as you're telling him about how chaotic your previous class was. he's not the most affectionate at school, but he likes to remind you that he loves you by doing little things for you, like taking an extra worksheet from the teacher's desk so you don't have to get up to grab one, or holding every door open for you (nothing's a hassle when it's for you) !
REO makes it known to his classmates that you're dating him (especially when other girls try to pursue him), making sure that you know that he's incredibly proud to be your boyfriend ! his devotion to you doesn't go away, and seizes every opportunity he has to give you a kiss before heading to his class ! like nagi, he likes to demonstrate how much he loves you through acts of service — he doesn't let you help him pack up after an experiment in science classes. when it's windy, reo's quick to fix your hair by tucking the loose strands back, his touch lingering before he pulls away his hand with a smile. when everyone is dismissed by the bell, reo's already standing beside his ride, door opened for you to get in because he's not letting you walk home in this bad weather >:(
RIN'S a quiet lover, and he's even less expressive when he's at school. it's a bit of a pity, but he still takes good care of you — he always offers his school jacket to you so you can cover your exposed knees from the cold. once he sees that you're shivering a bit, he'll throw his blazer over your shoulders. if rin notices that you're still cold, he'll get up from his seat and turns on the heating while he ignores his classmates who are protesting against the heating, saying it's unnecessary (he cares about your health more than your classmates — it's confirmed lol). when he notices that your mood is quite down because you received a relatively bad mark for your assessment, rin's already prepared a packet of your favourite candies in your shoe locker with a note that says, 'cheer up and eat these. i'm proud of you'. :((
© yoisami 2023. plagiarism, translation and distribution of my works outside of tumblr is not permitted.
#blue lock#bllk#bllk isagi#isagi x reader#isagi yoichi#bllk bachira#bachira x reader#bachira meguru#bllk chigiri#chigiri x reader#chigiri hyoma#bllk nagi#nagi x reader#nagi seishiro#bllk reo#reo x reader#mikage reo#bllk rin#rin x reader#itoshi rin#im in love w reo and chigiri its insane#mid work but ITS CUTE IG...#૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — ୨୧ by saki
753 notes
·
View notes
Text
You Said I Was Your Favourite - Ari Levinson
Summary: You're taken from Ari. He's promised you many things but when his eyes don't meet yours and his present words begin to make you doubt his past promises. Will you go back to him?
Paring: Mafia!Ari Levinson x Female!Reader
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst, mentions of past self harm, scars of self harm mentioned, reader is clean since 3 months, canon level violence, reader kidnapped, swearing, guns, blood, injury, protective ari, smut, p in v, dirty talk, fluff, past is in italics, hurt/comfort, fluff/smut, nicknames: metuka (meaning sweetheart).
A.N.: honestly the lyric 'you drew stars around my scars, but now i'm bleeding' cardigan by taylor swift, was circling around my head for the most part writing this fic. this is sort of a self indulgent fic, plus Mr. Levinson just reminds me of this comforting bear, i adore him. wrote this amidst a writing block so it may not be top notch but i adore it.
Dividers: @firefly-graphics || Word Count: 4.1k
Main Masterlist || AO3
Burning gunmetal and rust, a leaking pipe of water. Rough, uneven ground digs into your skin. Your gaze searches the dark room, vision field limited at the angle your head is twisted upon.
The overhead light flickers with an inconsistent buzz. You groan when you feel yourself being propped up to your knees.
“Stupid bitch.” The man sneers, grip tightening on your hair, twisting harshly. Your clothes stick to you, uncomfortably so. Sweat and you fear some amount of blood might be the reason.
The door is kicked open, heavy footsteps each around the room. You can’t look up fully due to the grip on your head.
However recognising that cologne is easy, and the way your heart soars even in this most horrible situation. You know it’s him—Ari.
Another whimper is coaxed out of you, your head tilted further the warm barrel of the gun touches your jaw.
Ari’s gaze is cold, not the warm blue waters that you love to sink into, none of the fiery blaze present with which he would trace your form.
“I see you made it.” The man chuckles, tapping your jaw with the gun, “Here I thought apart from your long gone wife no one held your affections.” He laments.
Ari’s jaw tightens, lips pressed into a thin line. It is then you realise he isn’t sparing you a glance. His gaze is on the man only.
“What no words? I have your girl.” The man scoffs, Ari just shrugs.
“You should really fact check, Parson.” Ari tuts, retrieving the pack of cigarettes he carries and lights one.
One puff, then a second one.
He scratches the side of his mouth with his thumb. Eyes everywhere else but on your form.
You swallow, your heart trying to convince your mind this is a dream. You were sleeping.
You had gone out, the mall? Yes.
Picking up a dress for dinner with Ari.
You must have gotten tired and fallen asleep.
This is just a dream.
Ari would never let his gaze stray from you. He would never ignore you.
“So if I shoot her, you won’t be sad or mad?” Parson’s voice sounds full of doubt.
“Oh I would be, but it is because you killed an innocent person, not because she means anything to me. You have the wrong woman.” Ari takes another drag of the cigarette. It burns bright then turns to ash.
You feel tears brim your eyes, a wicked smirk on Ari’s face.
“Oh, did you think more?” He speaks in a mocking tone. You feel your heart crack.
Please be a dream. Your heart screams, wails in your chest. Your gaze shifts down, lips pressed together tightly not to let the sob break free.
“But, but I saw the two of you, your hand on her face. She’s in l-love with y-you.” Parson stammers, his clear upperhand being undermined.
“Half of the female population pines for a minute of my affection.” Ari drops the cigarette, stepping upon it with the heel of his boot.
“You should have had more women in here.” He gives a dry chuckle.
“There isn’t anyone apart from you, Metuka.” Ari whispers against your forehead, “After a long time my heart has thawed, waiting to place itself onto your palms.”
You stay silent, your heart hammering in your chest.
“Bear.” Your throat tightens, “I, I have feelings for you too.” You admit, “I thought, I thought you wouldn’t—,”
“Oh but I do, Metuka.” He smiles, the kind that melts your heart. He pulls you into his arms, engulfing you in his bear hug. You nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck.
You blink tears at the memory.
“I’ve seen you kiss her.” Parson still argues.
Ari clicks his tongue, clearly irritated.
Ari’s lips find yours, he walks in after his work day. You gave him your apartment key. A squeal leaves you when he lifts you up, arms wrapping around your waist pulling you flush against his broad chest.
Deep rumbling laughter fills the small kitchen. You tilt your head back looking up at him. He then brushes his lips against yours, your hand moves to tangle with his soft hair. A few of the strands tickling your cheek.
The kiss turns bruising, you tug on his hair, he groans into your mouth, hands tightening around you. Keeping you to him.
“You’re mine, Metuka, as I am yours.” He promises.
“Parson, you’re wasting my fucking time.” Ari roars, anger coursing through his voice. You close your eyes.
“So you won’t care if I hurt her?” Parson smirks, watching the man in front of him closely. He taps the gun to your forehead.
“No one will lay a finger upon you, Metuka.” Ari promises as you’re laying with your head in his lap.
“Ari, nothing will happen to me.” You look up at him, his palm brushing over your head pauses, eyes harbour a moment of worry.
You grasp the hand that is on your abdomen, bringing it to your lips you kiss his palm. The callouses memorised by you. Your thumb traces over them.
“You will always protect me, I know.” You assure him.
“I don’t want you to get hurt because of what I do. Ever.” There is a furrow between his brows.
“Bear.” You try to get him to smile at the nickname, he doesn’t, you frown.
“Metuka,” Ari struggles with verbalising, you sit up, effortlessly he makes you sit facing him, “I will protect you till my last breath.”
“Bear, don’t, say that.” Your hands cup his face, stroking over his beard.
“There is only you, I only harbour you in my heart.” Blue eyes study you as you take in his words, your skin heats.
“I love you, Ari.” Your words light him up, he rewards you with the prized grin that belongs only to you.
“Parson, I was told you have a negotiation for business.” Ari taps his foot, your eyes drop from his face, “I didn’t realise you’d rather discuss the women I fuck.”
The words are cruel, they make you question everything over the past six months.
Your brain mocks your heart, you almost don’t feel the blade sinking into your forearm. When you refocus, you see the torn sleeve, Parson’s smile drops when Ari doesn’t show a shred of care.
“Let's try the other hand.” Parson moves, gripping your left hand. You panic.
“No.” You whisper, you hadn’t let Ari see your arms, favouring full sleeves. Not letting him take off your shirt when things got intimate during heavy make outs.
You were waiting for the damn scars to fade. You try to pry your hand away.
Ari’s hands freeze under your shirt. The way you tensed had him pause. He retracts his hands and pulls his mouth away from your neck.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, attempting to shift away. Your hands grasp his shoulders urging him to stay.
“Ari, Ari let me explain—,”
“You just have to say no, Metuka. It all stops. I don’t want an explanation.” He shakes his head.
“I’m, no I want to do this, kissing you making out, I just, I’m not comfortable taking my top off yet.” Your skin heats, you gaze down at his half exposed chest. The hypocrisy makes you wince.
“Do you want my hands to explore beneath?” He questions, you nod.
“So the shirt is not off but I can try to touch your very pretty boobs.” He just laughs when you lightly smack his chest. Grasping your palm he brings your fingers to his lips. Placing soft kisses upon them as his beard tickles.
You giggle, Ari adores you.
His palms then cup your cheeks, “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll take it further okay? I’m very happy making out as though we’re horny teenagers.”
That earns him another smack.
His deep laugh rumbles through your chest.
You try to shift away, Parson points his gun at Ari.
“He may feel nothing but I know you do, even if you’re nothing to him. Do you want him dead?” He chuckles darkly when your eyes shift from the gun to the towering man.
Ari still doesn’t meet your gaze, you don’t understand. Till this morning it was as if you were his world. Now he looks at you as if you’re nothing to him.
“Please don’t hurt him.” You look up at Parson. He only smiles, lowering the gun. Harshly grabbing your forearm you cry out, then bite down on your tongue to stop the whimpers.
Parson pushes the sleeve back harshly, the knife ready but then he pauses, seeing the lines strewn across your skin.
“Of course, big bad mafia man, Ari Levinson would never want someone broken.” Parson shakes his head with laughter bubbling past his tongue.
Ari finally moves his gaze on you, you’re looking down, biting back sniffles. The sight of your forearm though, sends his heart plummeting.
How had he not figured it out?
Why hadn’t you told him?
Is this why you didn’t want to show him all of you?
Why had he not asked you more often if you were doing alright?
How selfish and blind had he been towards you?
How long has this been going on?
Guilt fills him.
“No one would want someone this broken.” The disgust in Parson’s voice wraps around your mind, the scars ache beckoning you towards them yet again.
“I know.” Your voice is so small, you don’t look up. You don’t want Ari to see you this way. He wouldn’t care either way. You blink away the tears, it only makes them brim over.
“Parson, you have ten seconds to step away from her.” Ari warns through gritted teeth.
The man scoffs, “You’re without a weapon. You’re in no position to—,”
The mobster reaches into his jacket, retrieving a gun.
“H-how did you get that past my guards?” Parson sutters at the ammunition reveal.
“Oh, your guards? Did I say I came in here unprepared?” Ari chuckles darkly.
Parson presses the gun to your forehead, again.
“I won’t hesitate.” He warns.
“Nor will I.” Ari declares, “Close your eyes for me, Metuka.”
You look up at him, he finally meets your gaze. You close your eyes.
You hear the click, there is the echo of a shot fired followed by a clattering. You cover your ears. The gun no longer pressed to your forehead.
“Metuka.”
Warmth wraps around you, the scent of musk and jasmine surrounds you. Ari. You’re pressed to his chest. You want to cry, bury yourself in him.
You’re about to give in, take the comfort that belongs to you. Then you pause, you tense up.
Pushing at him, no, no, he wasn’t yours, he promised and everything Ari just admitted to, he doesn’t, he never said it and you know why, now.
“I’m sorry, I had to lie. Metuka, I’m so sorry, I should have been there with you. I sent you off alone like a fool.” He stumbles over his words,
“I promised you and I broke it, I couldn’t protect you, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry about whatever I said, I had to make him question his plan. I’m so sorry. Please talk to me, Matuka.” He pleads, large hands running up and down your shaking form.
You stay quiet, cheek pressed to the exposed flesh of his chest. His habit of having the top two buttons of his shirts unbuttoned was something you always found yourself drawn towards. Findinding your cheek pressed against it, hearing his breath and heart beating.
“You said it all so easily.” You whisper.
“I had to lie.” Ari explains, his hand cupping your face, trying to get you to look at him.
The wet tears gracing his skin breaking everything within him.
“Bear?” Your voice is low, sleep ridden.
He looks up from his files to you. You’re standing in the doorway of his office.
“Metuka? Why are you awake, is everything alright?” Pushing the chair back he stands, motioning for you to come closer.
“Bad dream…” you say, making your way to his open arms.
“Wanna talk about it?” Ari wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss to the top of your head.
You shake your head, wanting to dismiss the dream. It still gnaws at you.
“You won’t, you won’t lie to me right?” You whisper the question.
Ari’s brows furrow, “I’d never—,”
“About the way you feel, you won’t lie right? Saying that you have feelings for me when you actually don’t? If, if you just want sex then we can, you don’t have to lie to wait—,”
“Metuka.” The pain in that one word makes you pause.
Ari steps back, hands not leaving your face.
“I want everything with you okay? I don’t care how long I need to wait. I want you to be comfortable. I know I don’t express myself enough but please know I will never lie to coerce you into bed.” His blue eyes gaze into your own. Slowly you move closer to him again.
Closing the distance between the two of you. Ari’s hands move to your hips, aiding you in reaching up to him. He bends down, meeting your lips in a soft kiss. A promise.
When your lips part, as you breathe in you contemplate telling him.
“You can tell me what is on your mind.” His thumb strokes your cheek.
“Previous, previous partners have said sweet words and declarations of emotions… just to get into bed and then they leave.” You tell him.
“Give me the names.” He says so casually.
“Ari you aren’t going all Mafia Boss on them.” You warn him.
“They disrespected you, Metuka, they hurt you. Those who hurt you should not get a second chance at life.” He declares.
There is a pause, “Was your dream about me hurting you?” He hesitates in wanting to know, a fear so deeply ingrained.
You nod.
“I wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt you, please know that. I may have to lie or keep some truths half hidden, to protect you from the world I am a part of, I don’t want that tainting you.” Ari admits his worries, your arms wrap around him.
He seeks refuge in your warmth.
“I cannot have people use you or hurt you just to get back at me, for things I’ve done.” He continues, “I don’t want you to be caught in the crossfire and I will make sure of it that you don’t ever get hurt.”
“I’m so sorry.” He says again, you grab at his coat lapels, “I’m going to find who leaked our location—,”
“Ari, it hurts.” You finally register the wound on your forearm, looking at it you frown.
Then you look down at Ari’s sleeve, his jacket half off, the sleeve of his shirt torn to make a makeshift bandage for your wound. You stare up at him.
“Metuka, we’ll talk about everything at home. Can you stand?” He watches over you, the protectiveness within him brimming over.
You wince moving your leg forward.
“Alright, I’m carrying you.” Ari decides, shifting to your side and in a blink you’re in his arms.
“Boss.” Lloyd interrupts his step towards the door.
“Close your eyes.” He whispers softly to you, you bury your head against his chest. Closing your eyes. Breathing in his scent.
You feel Ari turn, “Keep him alive. I want answers, then I’ll take care of it. Metuka isn’t to be messed with, ever.” There is a dark edge to his voice, a judgement veiled between words.
Lloyd hums, “Alright, can I be creative with the keeping alive process?”
You don’t hear Ari’s reply, just feel him beginning to move again.
The distant yell has you know what his reply was to Lloyd.
Ari doesn’t take you to your apartment, you’re driven up to his estate. The first time you had seen his home post the lunch he took you to for your first date you joked if he was a mafia drug lord.
You giggle remembering his expression. Ari smiles when he hears the melodic sound. Nerves easing.
“What’s making you laugh?” He smiles as you meet his gaze with a smile. The dim lighting of the car did not dull the soft shine in his loving gaze.
“Just your face, when I asked if you’re a mafia drug lord when you brought me here for the first time.” You laugh again, he squeezes your side playfully.
“I was so scared you’d go running to the hills when I told you.” He admits. His free hand softly traces your left hand. Never over the scars just bordering around them.
“I wouldn’t, I mean, shady things yeah, but you aren’t in the whole drug thing so…” you trail off, the house comes into view.
“Come, I’ve got a medic on call.” Ari holds you protectively yet again.
“I think I can walk—,” you keep quiet at the look he gives you.
The medic is a sweet woman, she tends to your wounds, the cut isn’t deep for stitches, just a dressing. Her eyes linger on your scarred forearm, she doesn’t broach. You’re thankful for that.
The other scarpes littered over your form are checked and cleaned.
Ari enters the room, holding your favourite blue shirt of his and a pair of leggings you left here. He places them then moves to stand outside the room, waiting for you to change.
“I want to tell you about, about the scars.” You tell him, his face ashen as he turns.
“I, I’m sorry I didn’t pay more attention.” He doesn’t know what he should say, you shake your head.
“I hid them, I, I’m about three months clean now. I wanted them healed before you saw, didn’t want you to think I’m broken.” You quietly admit the last part.
“Metuka, I could never.” Ari gently grasps your hands, “You aren’t broken, this, this is hard, I just want to support you. The way you need. I don’t want you doing this to yourself ever again, but I know it’s easier said than done. I’m proud of you for being clean for three months. So immensely proud.” He peppers kisses all over your face, his beard tickling you laugh.
“You never have to hide any part of you from me.” Ari grasps your chin gently, tilting your head back, “I love you. Every part, even the ones you may keep hidden away from me.”
You stare up at him, the little flecks in his eyes, the sincerity of his words. Your chest tightens.
“Ari.” You remember to breathe.
“I love you.” He affirms again.
“Ari.” His name breaks as your voice does, “Ari, I love you too.”
“Metuka.” His own voice grows heavy with emotion, “No one is in my heart but you, no one holds my heart but you.”
Your hands move from his chest, up his neck, one cups his face the other runs through his hair. He sighs, basking in the warmth of your touch.
You reach up, gently tugging him downward. Ari complies with your wish.
Your lips meet, his hand moves over your back, towards your neck. His lips slightly chapped, bitten in worry, the lingering hint of smoke and the drink he probably took. His tongue moves over your bottom lip, parting your lips.
Your groan has him push himself closer to you. Your legs around his waist, Ari nips at your bottom lip coaxing another whimper from you. Your fingers tug upon his hair, a deep growl rumbles within his chest.
You can feel his hardening length against your core, you gasp when his hips move against you.
“A-ari,” his lips move along your jaw, nipping and humming at the taste of your skin.
Your clit pulses as he sucks upon the spot beneath your ear.
“I feel so content.” He hums, tugging on your earlobe, “Having you back in my arms.” His beard brushes over the spot he just etched his mark onto.
You keen as his bulge twists the fabric of your panties over your clit. Pleasure sparks across your spine.
“Mine, just as I am yours.” Ari says, biting down on your collar bone. His large form encases you. His lips on every inch of your exposed skin, the little gown coming off, your nipples harden brushing against the fabric of his shirt.
“Fuck,” you tug on the shirt, he shifts back letting you undo the buttons, his own large hands moving over your sides, eyes darkening.
“You sure you want this, Metuka?” Ari hisses when your nails scrape over his chest, your lips tracing over his sternum, making way to his nipple tugging on it, his grip tightens on your thighs.
“I want you, Ari. How much ever you’re willing to give me.” Your lips trace over his neck, to his jaw, then his lips. Hands moving to his pants, he aids you in undoing them.
His length twitches in your palm, you moan softly feeling the familiar vein on the underside as you trace his length. Ari groans as your thumb circles over his tip collecting the precum and bringing it to your lips.
Fingers hooking around the band, you raise your hips, Ari gets rid of your panties, discarding them to the side, you shiver as the cool air greets your wet folds.
Warm fingers have you arch, grinding against them.
He brings his soaked fingers toward his mouth. You moan when his eyes close as he hums at your taste appreciatively.
“Ari, please.” You plead, he chuckles.
“Impatient little sweet girl.” He teases, parting your thighs further, hooking them around his waist, his tip moves against your folds, you want to sigh at the relief of being so close to feeling him.
It turns into a moan melding with his own groan as your walls take his girth in, chest rising and falling, Ari sinks into you inch by delicious inch. The burning stretch dulling into pleasure as his thumb draws circles onto your clit.
“Ari, Ari, Ari—,” you choke on your words, his his flush against yours, your walls pulse around him. His lust blown eyes on your pussy.
“She takes me so well, fuck baby, look at you.” He gazes into your eyes, slowly pulling out halfway then sinking into you again. And again.
Your jaw slack, he shifts slightly, tip brushing over the spot that has you shuddering in his hold. Ari pushes you down, the angle making him go deeper, your back arched. The sound of skin slapping as his pace becomes relentless.
“Squeezing me so good, don’t want to let your cock go do you, Metuka?” His mouth latches to your taut nipple, your hand grabs at his hair tugging harshly lips only know to say his name—oh god, oh god, oh god.
You feel the pleasure build slowly then all at once he has you dancing along the edge. Your legs wrap around him tighter, not letting him go too far. His large hands squeeze at your hips, mouth latching onto the other nipple. His happy trail, rubs against your clit, sending you over.
You cum with a cry of his name, the wet sloshing sounds only increase as you gush around him. His pace doesn’t relent, pushing you further down, he hovers above you. Your leg now over his shoulder.
His hand wrapped around your throat, stroking over the sweat sheened skin.
“So pretty this way, one more baby, one more before I fill you up. One more,” he coaxes, you feel him move impossibly deeper. Tip hitting your cervix stars cloud your vision.
Can’t, I can’t, you think, “Ari,”
“You can and you will.” He growls, pinching your clit you shudder yet again, the pleasure begins to climb, taking over you nerve by nerve.
“Look at you, so pretty, taking all of me so well, I belong to you my sweetness, all of me, yours, yours to love, yours to hold, yours to claim, yours to fuck.” Ari swears as he feels your walls spasm, your nails dig into his forearms you shudder in his grasp as your orgasm triggers his own.
Ari moans your name, spilling into you, claiming your walls with his seed. He continues to thrust allowing you both to ride out your orgasms, he watches the mix of the two of you coat a ring at the base of his length.
“I’m not done with you, Metuka.” He says, softly kissing your forehead.
You look at him through glassy eyes, aftershocks lingering through you.
He slowly pulls out, you whimper, then moan when his lips move along your inner thighs, blowing softly over your clit.
“Ari—,” Your whine cut off when his mouth latches to your cunt. The way his eyes glaze and roll back at your taste, the moan that presses against your folds and clit. You cry out for more of him.
“I told you I’m not done. Have to have a taste of my pretty pussy.” Is all he says, beard gleaming with your arousal, before his lips latch around your clit again.
-x-
#ari levison x reader#chris evans#chris evans x y/n#ari levinson smut#ari levinson x female reader#chris evans x reader#chris evans smut#chris evans series#chris evans drabble#chris evans x you#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans x female reader#frostironfudge#chris evans characters#chris evans one shot#cevans#ari levinson fanfiction#ari levinson imagine#ari levinson one shot#ari levinson blurb#ari levinson x plus size reader#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson fluff#ari levinson angst#chris evans angst#chris evans fluff
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Kamaboko Squad and how I think they’d react to you asking them for a hug
not a request, first headcanons post fsfsfsfs- this is pure fluff from my self indulgence. reader is gender neutral ofc <3
Tanjiro
sweetest boy, will ofcourse accept it
please hug him he’s very traumatised
“Oh, you want a hug? Of course! Come here.”
so soft
holds you tightly to him
loves your scent so he naturally wants you as close to him as possible
he sometimes likes hugs from behind (giving or receiving either way he loves them sm they’re highly encouraged)
likes burying his face in your chest or shoulder or lap or anywhere at all
if you have any places that are even remotely plush, he will bury his face into it
(me writing this rn:)
~~~~~~
Zenitsu
oh boy
you best prepare yourself
this boy will go feral
he will freak out, probably roll around on the ground and do a backbend (cue that one frame from season 1 when Tanjiro met Zenitsu before they fought the drum demon)
he’ll be screaming, crying, throwing up-
yeah-
he’s v dramatic and over the top with his reaction
but the truth is he’s so happy he doesn’t know how to react like-
he loves you? sm? he’s a simp?
“WHAAAAAAT?! YOU WANNA HUG ME?! YOU, A DEITY, WANTING TO HUG MEEEE?!”
literally just pull him into your chest and he’ll shut up
he’ll probably stop functioning but hey atleast you’re not hearing his ear-splitting screeching /lh
but from that day forward, oh gosh
you best believe every time this yellow haired golden retriever boy will scoop you into his arms no matter how short or tall you are compared to him
and he will swing you around
bc yes
~~~~~
Inosuke
king of the mountain is ofcourse also the king of being chaotic and feral
is honestly confused as to why you chose him of all people to hug
may be reluctant or hesitant cos the action is foreign to him
after all he grew up with boars-
but honestly once he does eventually settle into your embrace, he’s kinda like
“y’know this isn’t half bad… I don’t mind this.”
might will end up tackling you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you for some hugs afterwards
he will never admit to it, not even to you, even despite it being obvious, but he loves your hugs
literally will come up to you in the middle of the night sometimes after a mission and he’ll probably wanna put his head in your lap so you can scratch his head (aka the only time he willingly lets someone see his pretty face)
#demon slayer#tanjiro x y/n#zenitsu x you#inosuke x reader#kamaboko squad#gonpachiro kamaboko#kimetsu inosuke#kny x y/n#kny headcanons#kny x reader#kny fluff#inosuke being tsundere is so canon im
418 notes
·
View notes
Text
Right
Pairing: Jake Lockley x afab!reader (established Marc Spector x reader)
Word Count: 3.9k+
Summary: Who knew being apart for weeks is the thing that sends you both over the edge ~part 2 to this beauty Wrong~
Warnings/Tags: 18+ SMUT, unprotected p in v, fingering, oh sweet virgin!jake, also touchstarved!jake if you squint, edging, both switch!Jake&reader(?), oral (m receiving), little bit of fluff sprinkled in, cursing, smidge of manhandling
a/n: okayyy this was completely self indulgent… I’m feeling a type of way and my heads fuzzy now. I’m glad so many of you enjoyed the first part and honestly can’t thank the anon that requested this enough. As always thank you so much for reading🥰
You stand in the hallway, excitedly buzzing at their front door. You can’t stay still, the impatience of not seeing them for 3 weeks finally gets to you as you wait for the door to open. “Hi,” you have the widest smile on your face as the door finally swings open. For a second you’re not sure who’s fronting, their face is almost expressionless. It could be either of the three but you don’t get a moment longer to ponder. You’re pulled past the threshold and straight into his chest with a thud. His arms are wrapped around your shoulders in a firm hug, it catches you completely off guard at first but quickly you melt into him. Your arms slide around his waist, hands clasping at his back and you tuck your head into his neck. It feels so nice to be back here, it’s as if your body is able to relax for the first time in weeks. They’re here and they’re safe.
“You smell so good,” your nose brushes against his neck, smelling the aftershave that normally clings to your clothes after you leave them. It has a comforting effect every time you smell it and it seems to have an extra level to it after being apart for so long. “I missed you,” you get up on your tiptoes to kiss his jaw and then his cheek before leaning back as far as you can still in his embrace. You’re beaming up at him unable to hold in how happy you are and now he’s smiling too.
“I missed you cariño,” one of his hands comes around to stroke your cheek and your eyes fall shut, the small affection something you’ve missed dearly. His fingers curl under your jaw and gently he pushes your head back just a little. He takes his time to lean down and capture your lips with his and it takes everything in you not to let out a quiet moan.
“Hello, mi amor.”
“Hi, Jake.”
Your cheeks hurt from how long you’ve been smiling and it’s only made worse when Jake’s eyes crinkle in the corners, a rare sight that really only you truly get to see.
“I really missed you,” Jake’s eyes look over your face slowly and he hums in response but he looks like he’s really thinking about what he’s going to say next.
“Show me how much you missed me.”
You blink up at him a few times, unsure you heard him correctly but the way his eyebrow raises and his smile turns more into a smirk, you know you heard him right. His hand slides down to hold your neck, pulling you into another kiss.
“Are you sure?” You breathe against his lips and he nods before you’ve even finished your sentence. It had been months of carefully getting to know each other, months of patience and heavy makeout sessions that pushed the boundaries. Building trust with one another had been so important to Jake and therefore it was important to you. The conversations about what you were both comfortable with and what you both wanted, had done things to the imagination but now it’s happening your mind’s gone a little blank. “We can take it slow,” Jake hums again before pulling you into another kiss, “we can stop anytime.” He’s moving to kiss your neck already and at this point, you’re breathing is becoming more ragged, “you can change your mind at any-”
“Hermosa,” Jake pulls his head away enough so he can look down at you, “I am trying to fuck you, please let me.”
Your eyes grow wide and you nod your head, quickly moving one of your hands up to the back of his head. You pull him down to kiss him this time, it’s desperate and needy. His hands sweep down your body until they rest on the backs of your thighs, he’s crouched awkwardly for a second before he hoists you up. You squeal his name, and your legs instinctively wrap around him while your hands hold his face between them. He has you giggling between kisses and even more so when you realise the front door was still wide open. Jake has you secured around him with one arm wrapped around you, the other reaching behind to close the door before he can press you up against it. He’s back to kissing your neck, strong hands massaging your thighs while yours slip into his hair.
“This isn’t really me showing you how much I missed you,” you’re breathless and it’s funny how he’s got you in such a state already. He draws himself back so he can look you in the eyes, that signature smug expression all over his face.
“Oh, you want to show me?” Again you’re nodding, feeling a surge of confidence come out of nowhere. “Okay hermosa,” he just barely brushes his lips against yours, “show me.”
Gently he pulls your legs from around him and drops you to your feet again. Something within you switches and the urge to please him, make him feel good, to show him just how much you missed him takes over completely.
Your hands smooth down his neck and over his chest, eyes locked on his as your fingers slowly move to the buttons of his shirt. Only briefly do you look away, mesmerised by the way your hands steadily expose him more. His chest is rising and falling so fast you think maybe he’s nervous but when you look up at him he’s nothing but confident. A hand comes up to hold your cheek, the gentle affection stark in comparison to the thoughts you’re having. You crane your head up to kiss him again, a little more forceful than before and your hands finally slip under his shirt. Jake sucks in a sharp breath at the contact but he moves instinctively when you push the material from his shoulders. Jake, with your help, tugs at it until it drops to the floor. The clean crisp shirt is now uncaringly wrinkled in a pile. The kisses grow more fervent as your hands delicately explore his newly exposed skin. Your nails graze against his sides and it causes goosebumps to break out all over his body. Your fingertips follow the waistline of his trousers, enjoying the deep breaths he has to take in.
“Don’t tease.” It comes out mumbled against your lips and you have to chuckle that he thinks this is teasing, it’s more appreciation and taking your time. As if to prove that point you do it again, agonisingly slowly your fingers brushing against the skin just above his waistband. This time he deeply rumbles out your name and it’s your turn to be smug, feeling your ego grow a little.
You show him some mercy, your hands moving to his belt and meticulously you begin undoing it. Suddenly, you find it amusing that Jake’s already half-naked while you still have your jacket and shoes on. So, you pull your hands away from his half-undone belt and a whine escapes him.
“Need to even it up,” you breathe out as you start tugging off your jacket. Jake’s hands quickly fumble to help you before it’s even off his fingers are pushing up the hem of your top. He’s pulling the material up your torso while you’re still yanking the jacket sleeves from your wrists. Then his lips are back on yours, a feverish kiss that makes you feel dizzy. It’s clumsy the way you’re dropping the jacket and trying to kick off your shoes all while Jake tries to strip you of another layer and kiss you desperately. You have to be the one to pull away so he can pull the top over your head. It’s barely off before Jake’s back to kissing you, his hands holding onto your face as if you might disappear and you can feel him getting lost in it all. The excitement mixed with some nervousness you know is lying beneath that’s getting him a bit carried away. Your hands move back to undoing his belt and trousers, remembering the task at hand. Jake gasps when one of your hands slips into his trousers, his forehead pressing into yours as he takes a few steadying breaths.
“You tell me to stop if it’s too much okay?” He doesn’t respond, still breathing hard even though you haven’t moved your hand. You call his name and he just starts nodding, humming briefly.
“Use your words, honey.”
“Yes-okay-please, cariño.” He’s absolutely gone already, it’s satisfying the way you’ve managed to make big, scary Jake turn into absolute incoherent mush. You press a final quick kiss to his lips before ever so slowly you sink to your knees, Jake watches with surprise unable to say or do anything but watch you.
You’re taking your time, not once taking your eyes off of his trusting that your hands can move blindly. They tug at the now undone trousers until they’re pooled at his feet, and then teasingly your nails graze up and up the outside of his legs. His eyes snap shut and his breath shudders when your fingers reach the edge of his underwear, he has to steady himself by leaning a hand against the door. Jake’s reaction makes you beam with confidence, so, your hands move, your fingers hooking under the material and dragging them down just enough. You try your hardest to fight off a grin as you note the way he sucks in a sharp breath and holds it there.
“Breathe, baby.”
Just as he focuses on breathing a normal amount, his eyes blinking open, your hand brushes over his cock and sends his breathing into a frenzy again. It’s endearing how sensitive he is, how reactive to your touch his body seems to be, there’s no hiding how he feels. You stop teasing, the need to see him wither more becoming increasingly more urgent. Delicately you place a kiss on the tip of his cock, absolutely revelling in the way his mouth drops open. Your eyes shift away from his face now, focused solely on the way your hand slowly starts to move up and down his cock and how he lets out such pretty little noises. Then his fist knocks against the door when you slowly push him past your lips, a string of unintelligible words following. You look up through your lashes and unexpectedly find him already looking down at you. His normally slicked-back hair is unruly, now strands fall onto his forehead and his eyes are half-lidded with his jaw completely slack. He’s an absolute sight and he lets out the most heavenly moan when you suck on the tip of his cock.
“Okay, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.” His hand contradicts his words as it cups the back of your head and pushes him even further into your mouth. However, your hands grip his hips and gently push him away. You don’t even get a chance to ask if he’s okay because he’s pulling you back up onto very unsteady feet. Your back hits the door but his hand shields the back of your head from the assault and you’re back to kissing. Your head is dizzy from how fast he’s moved, however, the pressure of his lips on yours again is a welcome distraction to the numbness in your legs. His hands are suddenly back on your thighs and he’s pulling you back up to wrap your legs around him, a groan catching in his throat when you grind up against him. Your hands fall into his hair, combing through the rough curls. You can feel him moving now, trying to walk you both through the flat and he stumbles completely forgetting about the trousers still wrapped around his ankles. There’s an instant shock from both of you but then you’re giggling while he attempts to kick them off.
“Sorry,” he looks back up at you, his features dropped in fear he’s ruined the moment. Immediately you start shaking your head, shushing him between kisses you gently place on his lips. You nudge his cheek with your nose so he’ll turn a little and you can press more kisses to his skin, moving down to his neck while he more cautiously takes steps this time. You take your time sucking bruising marks onto his neck, taking great satisfaction in the sigh he lets out when you graze your teeth along the top of his shoulder.
Suddenly, he’s pressing you down onto the cold kitchen countertop and you’re squealing while desperately clinging onto him. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest as he pulls back to look at you, his fingers gently graze your jaw before he angles your head up more and just barely skims his lips over yours.
“You are so beautiful, mi amor.” You can feel your heart tighten at the sweet statement, your bottom lip jutting out just a little. For a moment, you just gaze at one another, smiles slowly growing the longer you look at each other. “Now,” his hands are back on your legs, slowly inching from your knees to your hips, “I think you’re still wearing too many clothes, no?” Your teeth sink into the inside of your bottom lip and you nod quickly. Jake grins at your eagerness before he’s pulling at the waistband of your trousers, with your assistance he manages to take off both your trousers and underwear. “That’s better,” he says dropping the material and moving closer again. Your arms wrap around his neck in an effort to keep him close and now, it’s your turn to be sensitive as his fingers lightly touch your now exposed thighs and your body shudders. Slowly, they move like they had before, up and up until his hands rest on top of your thighs. You don’t even realise your breathing has picked up, your eyes glued to his as you wait in anticipation. He smiles at you while his thumbs rub soothing circles against your skin. Your legs instinctively relax, opening ever so slightly wider and Jake seems to take that as his cue to move again. One hand moves off of your thigh and your hips squirm when Jake’s finger finally touches your pussy, your arms pull him closer until your foreheads touch. He takes his time dragging his fingers up to your clit which causes your legs to flinch, attempting to close but instead they just clamp around Jake’s hips.
Your mind’s gone completely blank, solely focused on the way his fingers repeat what they’d just done. Then they’re gone and you whine at the loss, pulling your head back from his just as he raises the same hand that’d just been touching you to his mouth. Jake pushes two fingers past his lips while holding eye contact with you and your head is so cloudy you just watch, mouth falling open. Jake’s smirking after he pulls them from his mouth, his eyes scan down your face and then he’s tapping his wet fingers against your bottom lip. You let him slide the same two fingers into your mouth, and he deliberately presses against your tongue before dragging them out again. For a second, you draw your eyes away from his to look at his fingers, the wet digits glimmering in the light. Your eyes then flicker between his hand as it moves down again and his face, finally settling back on his face just before his fingers reach your pussy again. Jake watches as your eyes fall closed when he finally touches you again, one of your hands slipping from his shoulder to hold onto the edge of the counter. He’s fully satisfied with the way you’re reacting when he’s barely done anything, all the months have built up to this exact moment and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this genuinely excited for something in his whole life. He moves agonizingly slow as he circles your clit a few times, content with the way you whimper and your breathing quickens. Shamelessly he stares at your chest for a moment, enjoying the way it rises and falls rapidly and suddenly he wants more. Jake’s quickly become addicted to the sounds you make and he wants more of them, he wants them louder until it’s all he can hear. So, he casts his gaze back to your face because he wants to watch your reaction as he slips two fingers slowly into you. He’s more than happy when your mouth drops open more and you harshly suck in air. The arm that still hangs around his neck moves, your hand sliding into his hair and holding him in place—like he’d want to be anywhere else right now.
You start panting as Jake moves his hand, pulling his fingers out almost completely before steadily pushing them in again. He builds his pace slowly, trying to memorise the way your panting turns into whimpers and then into quiet moans but he still wants more, he still wants you to be louder. His hand moves just a fraction quicker, the palm of his hand hits your clit with each thrust and it feels so good. Your fingers ache from how hard you’re gripping the edge of the counter, your other hand tugging probably a little too hard on his hair as you dangle on the edge of your climax already. You’re so close, just a little more and… he stops moving. His hand freezes, fingers still buried in your pussy and you’re clenching around him, begging for him to move as your climax begins to fade away.
“You didn’t think I’d forget cariño?” You’re dazed for a second trying to work out exactly what he said, “I need to know you remember who’s making you feel this good.”
“Jake!” You want to punch him straight in his perfectly smug face.
“See you’re learning already,” he chuckles when you raise your hands to your face, you were so close to cumming you could cry.
“Now, you keep saying my name until the neighbours know it.” Jake starts thrusting his fingers again with no warning and you gasp, the air doesn’t feel like it’s enough so you keep gasping in more. Your hands have moved to grip his shoulders, nails roughly digging into his skin.
“Come on, cariño.” Your brain finally registers what he’d said before and his name tumbles out your mouth over and over again. The cocky bastard’s grinning now, pulling you back to that edge unbelievably quick and then he just stops again. He pulls his fingers from you this time and you cry out, completely upset that he’d hold onto this grudge and be so mean about it.
“Just one more, I promise.” He contradicts his punishing hand by placing a delicate kiss on your cheek, waiting just a moment for you to come down. This time he presses his thumb to your clit, moving so slow at first until you whine his name and he shows a little mercy by speeding up. You’re so sensitive from being so close to your orgasm that it doesn’t take long for you to again be right there. You’re at the point you’re chanting out his name sprinkled with curse words and you’re just about there-
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Your forehead hits against his shoulder and Jake has the audacity to laugh as you cry out, thoroughly frustrated now by his cruel punishment. He’d completely removed his hand again and apparently, he found it funny as you practically begged for him to keep going.
“I know hermosa, I’m sorry.” He sure doesn’t sound sorry. “This time, I promise.”
Unexpectedly, you feel the head of his cock taps against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. You pull your head back up again, looking at him as his free hand comes up to hold your face. You think you must look desperate and you are, you’re desperate for him to finally fuck you and you’re even more desperate to cum. Both of you move at the same time, nudging your noses against each other before sharing a heartfelt kiss. You barely pull apart, holding each other close as Jake moves his cock against your pussy. His hand falls from your face to firmly hold your hip as he unhurriedly pushes into you. He’s so careful, watching for any slight indication he’s going too fast but he’s somehow unbelievably perfect. He does stutter about halfway when your pussy clenches around him and he has to bury his head in between your neck and shoulder. Both his hands are now splayed on the counter on either side of you, holding himself still for a second to recollect himself. Somehow you manage to scoot your hips closer to the edge of the counter, your legs hooking around his hips and changing the angle so much his cock slips further into you. A strangled moan falls from Jake’s lips and that urge to see him whither comes back tenfold so you try to pull him even closer. Your hand that had been gripping the counter coming around to his lower back, that paired with your legs tug him closer and one of his arms tightly winds around your back. His fingers dig into your side and he grunts out something you don’t understand but then suddenly, he’s moving his hips at a moderate pace. It catches you off guard and your grip still in his hair tightens, you press the side of your face into his. This time he doesn’t take his time to build a steady pace, slamming into you over and over as you both moan. You’re so close again and you’ll do just about anything to cum this time. The hand that was pressed against his back slips around so you can now touch yourself, your fingers circling over your clit feverishly and almost immediately your pussy starts to clench.
“Fuckfuckfuck-” Jake’s hips falter, the arm around you pulling you almost off the counter. He recovers quickly and continues to thrust into you with slightly more difficult as you clench uncontrollably now. Entirely focused on how close you are to cumming finally, Jake’s thrusts become a little more forceful and you’re completely gone. His name comes out in a whine, your fingers moving just a little faster as your climax hits you hard. It feels unbelievable and it is almost worth all of the edging you received. Almost immediately Jake’s thrusts become shallow and deliberate, your pussy spasming around him causing rough groans to ring in your ears. You’re still on a high as Jake cums, his forehead still pressed to the place between your neck and your shoulder and you can feel his quick pants against your collarbone. You have to remove your hand from your pussy as his hips keep rocking into you as he cums, your entire body becoming oversensitive. Slowly, he comes to a stop still completely submerged inside you and for a second you both try to focus on your breathing, attempting to get your racing hearts back to a normal rate.
“Hi,” you breathe out when he raises his head. Jake looks so shy, his cheeks are completely flushed and he can’t keep his eyes on yours. It makes a smile grow as you tug his head closer, pressing your lips to his and you can feel him smile into the kiss. Jake pulls away only to bury his head in your neck again.
“Hermosa,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair which earns you a satisfied sigh mixed with a faint chuckle.
“Hermoso.” He quietly corrects which makes you smile even more, your heart fluttering a little when he kisses your collarbone.
“Hermoso then.” You whisper again before pressing a kiss to his head, content with just holding him like this for a minute.
#jake lockley x you#jake lockely x reader#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley smut#jake lockley#jake lockley fluff#jake lockley fanfiction#jake lockley fic#moon knight x reader#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight#moon knight smut#moonknight#moonknight x reader#moon knight x you#moon knight fluff#jake lockley my absolute beloved
706 notes
·
View notes
Text
Baby, I'm yours: - Chapter six: "Never forget I'm your man"
Summary: Spencer has been preparing a surprise for his cherie. The team gets a 5 am call that puts everybody on edge.
Warning: Extreme fluff, smut (p in v), cursing, and that's it.
Word count: 10.1K
A/N: Honestly, this was self-indulging to write, and I hope you all enjoy it. Likes, comments and reblogs are always welcome!
Btw, if you want the whole trip to Hawaii story, you can read the one shot here
Series Masterlist | General Masterlist | Prequel Masterlist
Previous chapter | Next chapter
(Y/N)'s point of view
After a few weeks, I must say living with Spencer felt like it wasn't anything new. And don't get me wrong, it's not that it wasn't exciting, 'cos it was! What I mean is that it felt right, like what I had always been supposed to do. Yes, sometimes it felt like we needed more room, but we didn't care. His apartment was perfect for the two of us. We would spend the weekends cuddled on the couch, reading or watching old movies. Or kissing. Sometimes all three. It was our own paradise, our little piece of heaven we didn't want to tell anyone from work about. Between those walls, there were no cases, no sorrows, and no pain. Just us, in love, enjoying our company.
Yet still, we could feel the emptiness and sorrow of Emily's loss, and we discovered that sharing time with JJ and Will helped us. Taking Henry out to the park, or just having brunch together on Sunday. We knew she missed her as much as we did, and she became a big support for us during that period.
Morgan was going through his grieving alone though. He was mad at the world for taking Emily, and I completely understood his struggle. Penelope was always there for him, and I was glad those two could count on each other. It felt somehow similar to what Spencer and I had, though they weren't a couple: no matter what, they were always there for each other.
Except for that minute, when Spencer was nowhere to be found. It was Thursday night, and after he finished work, he rushed out of the bullpen telling me he had to attend yet another seminar. He had three seminars and a congress in the last three weeks and thought he promised he would be back home for dinner, it was already nine, and Spencer Walter Reid was nowhere to be seen. I texted him, but he didn't even read the message.
I stared at the kitchen and sighed. The primavera stuffed chicken was ready. I was turning into a Pinterest housewife who loved trying new recipes at least twice a week, or when work allowed me to. Spencer often joked his vest was going to start getting too tight if I continued cooking like that. That wasn't going to stop me, by the way.
- "Pumpkin! I'm home!"- Spencer announced as soon as he opened the front door.
- "Hey honey bunny! How was the seminar?"
- "Boring!"- my boyfriend walked to me as I set the table, and wrapped his arms around me- "I just wanted to come home and be with you."
- "Really? But you just sat next to me the entire day at work"- I felt his lips assaulting my neck as he chuckled and soon reached my mouth, holding my face with both hands, trapping me. As if I planned to move away from him.
- "The work time is not enough. Besides, I couldn't even kiss you. That's unfair"- and so, Spencer kissed me even deeper, and with more passion. As if he hadn't actually seen me three hours earlier.
- "Ready for dinner?"- I whispered as I parted from him slowly. If we didn't stop that kiss there, we were never going to eat.
- "Starving."
- "Go wash your hands while I finish here."
- "Yes ma'am"- Spencer pecked my lips and smiled before walking to the bathroom. I stared at him for a second and sighed. I never thought I could be so happy.
- "Hello?"- I picked up the phone as I reheated the mashed potatoes.
- "Hey nugget! What's up!"
- "Paco! I haven't heard from you in over two weeks, what happened? Were you mad? Abducted? New girlfriend?"- I heard my friend laughing at the other side of the line as I opened the oven and took out the chicken.
- "Neither, just lots of work. But I have great news, we are playing this Saturday in the Black Cat at eight, and you and the doc are officially invited to join us."
- "Sounds good! I haven't seen you play live in what feels like ages!"
- "I know, Mikey said he doesn't even remember your face."
- "How is my baby?"
- "I saw him earlier at rehearsal. He is ok, still dating the girl you didn't like, so please be nice and ignore her Saturday if she shows up."
- "Damn! Can't she get sick or something?"- Frank giggled. I knew he didn't like Mikey's girlfriend either, but I would always be the cruel one. He used to say a was a very jealous friend, but I wasn't usually wrong when I didn't like one of their dates.
- "I dunno, cross your fingers she doesn't want to go. Why do you hate her by the way?"
- "She looks like a gold digger to me."
- "It's not like Mikey is loaded."- Paco chuckled at his words and I simply sighed as I checked on dinner.
- "Yeah, but he is making good money and she seems to be very high maintenance. The last time I talked to Mikey, he told me he had bought her a new iPhone."
- "And little shit made me pay for pizza earlier!"- I laughed and grabbed a few dishes.
- "Well, if we don't have to catch any psycho killer, I promise we'll be there, front row, clapping and cheering you, as always."
- "Thank you nugget. I knew I could count on you. And how's doc?"
- "Good, he just got home and we are about to have dinner."
- "Give him my regards. I will leave you to enjoy your evening with your man. Love you!"
- "Love you, Paco. See you soon!"
Lucky for Frank, that weekend we didn't have to leave town, and after Spending most of the morning in bed, reading, drinking coffee, and making love, Spencer finally let me out of the sheets and into the shower.
- "I thought we could have some dinner before going to see the band"- he said as he drove through town.
- "Sounds good, I'm starving. Where do you wanna go?"
- "I dunno... let's see what we can find."- my boyfriend gave me a mysterious grin and held my hand.
- "Where are you taking me, Spencer?"
- "You'll see."
After less than half an hour, he parked outside the 24/7 dinner I used to frequent a lot when I was at the academy, 'cos it kept me sugar-loaded and caffeine high.
- "Hey, I remember this place."- I said as soon as we walked in.
- "Do you, really?"- Spencer's lips curved in a tiny smirk as he stared at me.
- "Yes, we came here after that party in Garcia's when I first joined the team."
- "Yes, we did"- Spencer grinned and pointed to an empty booth- "And I will forever consider that night as our first date."
- "Really?"- I sat and looked at him, raising an eyebrow- "You were aware back then I was dating someone else, right honey?"
- "I do. But I also know you never loved Paul"- I blushed and nodded. Though I knew it was true, it was very different when Spencer pointed it out. And even weirder when he remarked it with a cocky smile on his lips.
- "Are you implying I already loved you back in those days?"
- "Did you?"
- "I don't remember..."- I teased and he chuckled.
- "Well, I already knew you were the most special woman I had ever met."
- "I had been on the team just for four weeks or so."
- "And?"
- "You are full of shit, Spencer!"- I chuckled and he laughed- "Are you trying to tell me you've always loved me?"
- "You know I have, from day one."- he held my hand and kissed it- "It's true. I'm not telling you this 'cause I think you need to hear it. I wanted you to know 'cos that's how we all feel."
- "Can I take your order?"- a waitress interrupted us and forced us to pay attention to the menu instead. Spencer asked for a cheese sandwich and I ordered a burger, plus two cupcakes and two cups of coffee. Yes, we were hungry, but in our defense, we had spent most of the day in bed, naked.
- "That day you told me something I never forgot."- I whisper and keep staring at my hands as we wait for our food.
- "I remember I told you you had been an incredible addition to the team, and that your linguistic knowledge was a great tool to crack cases."- he said and rested his hands on mine, making me see one more time, how tiny my hands were compared to his.
- "No, you thanked me for being nice to you, even though you were a barely tolerable person. And I remember thinking how could you say that if you were the only person in the whole FBI I wanted to hang out and be friends with since day one."
- "See? You did always love me."- Spencer smiled and I shook my head.
- "I also remember thinking you had the most beautiful smile ever, but I didn't tell you 'cos I didn't want to make you nervous."
- "You made me nervous anyway, chipmunk"- Spencer chuckled and added- "You told me you liked my random facts, so from that day on I've tried to give you at least one fact every day. And you always seemed sincerely interested in what I was saying. I never really had a chance, chipmunk, I know I've fallen in love with you every day since the first time we talked."
I stared into his eyes and bit my lips, thinking no one had ever said to me anything nearly as romantic and sincere as Spencer had said. He smiled and so did I, fighting the tears in my eyes.
- "You are very romantic tonight, honey bunny."
- "Yes, I am, ma cherie. Let's say tonight I am happy I have you with me, and I just want to make you happy."
- "If I had known that was your plan, I would have never left that bed."- my boyfriend chuckled and blushed, funny how he could be so bold at times, and still, be the shy man I had fallen in love with over five years before.
We ate our dinner remembering the first year we worked together. All the midnight cupcakes we shared all over the country when we were out of the city for a case, and neither of us could sleep. And for the first time ever since we were a couple, we analyzed our trip to Hawaii and how much we both suffered for being fools in love. We had a very nice evening, it was so amusing to finally share what was going on in each other's heads during the time, I was really enjoying my time.
Spencer's point of view
That night I was freaking out. Three weeks in the making were about to pay off, and I was terrified anything could go wrong. And the worst part was having to lie to (Y/N). I had to use all my profiler's tactics to keep her in the dark about what was going on. The escapades after work, pretending I had to attend a congress or seminars, sneaking to work on a secret project I had for her, everything was going to come out to the light that night, and I needed everything to be perfect.
- "Do you wanna know what was infuriating all the years we were just friends?"- (Y/N) asked and took a spoon of her brownie and ice cream.
- "Do tell, ma cherie."
- "The fact you were oblivious to all the girls flirting with you! And I was always so mad and jealous!"
- "No one ever flirted with me! Ever!"- I excused myself, shocked.
- "You made out with Lila Archer in a pool!"
- "Ok! That was the only time!"
- "You got that waitress's phone number 'cos you did that magic trick for her!"
- "I was working!"
- "Sure thing! How long did you keep the card with the kiss she sent you? It was on your desk, on display!"- I laughed and shook my head, denying any interest in that woman.
- "I forgot about it!"
- "Of course, Mr eidetic memory!"- I chuckled and watched her smiling at me, looking honestly happy.
- "I don't know why you are whining so much, during our trip to Hawaii I had to keep the guys away from you! If I remember clearly, I had to pretend I was your husband many times during those days"- (Y/N) blushed immediately and shook her head.
- "I only said that to that first guy 'cos I really wanted it to be our honeymoon"- I hear her confess after all those years- "I tried to get your attention the entire time, and you didn't even look at me."
- "Didn't look at you? I couldn't keep my eyes from you!"- my voice was so loud I nearly shrieked, as my ears and face turned blood red immediately- "I was so in love with you, and there you were, walking around almost naked! Every day you wore a smaller outfit than the previous, you were driving me insane!"
- "What?"- She widened her eyes, absolutely surprised by my confession. I couldn't believe she had never noticed.
- "I had to take cold showers at least twice a day!"
- "I was sure you hated being there with me!"
- "I hated not being able to touch you!"- I held her hand, chuckling as I let my fingers linger from hers to her arm, caressing her soft skin- "Maybe that is why now is so hard for me to keep my hands from you."- (Y/N) smiled and sighed, staring into my eyes. I tried to look confident and calm, though I was neither of those things that night.
- "I was so in love with you back then"- my girlfriend whispered- "So in love in fact, it hurt."
- "I felt exactly the same"- I kiss her fingers softly and smiled- "We were really fools in love, ma cherie."
- "Fools, blind, stubborn... you name it. I'm glad those days are over."
- "Me too."- I stared at her in silence, gathering the courage to say the following words- "Ready to go to the show?"- she smiled and nodded, and I quickly raised my arm to get the check. It was almost time. And I still wasn't sure how I was going to pull the strength to do what I had planned for the last few weeks.
The bar was crowded, which worked perfectly for the plan, but it made me feel sick in the stomach. There were a lot of people, and if things didn't go well, I was going to be embarrassed in front of them all. I looked around as we walked in, making sure everything was perfect.
- "Is it just me or does this place seems cleaner than usual?"- (Y/N) asked, staring at the hundred fairy lights around us.
- "Maybe there is new management"- I suggested, and she seemed to find my answer logical 'cos she just nodded, holding my hand tight to not lose me in the crowd. Again, there were so many people there that night! Why?
- "Wanna get a drink?"- I asked her, sort of yelling to make sure she heard me in the crowd and pointed at the bar. She just nodded with a smile and walked there with me.
We stood in front of the stage, each one of us holding a drink. I looked at the instruments and felt the air leaving my lungs. But I couldn't chicken out of it.
- "Did you see the sign that said "Absolutely no crowd surfing or stage diving"?"- (Y/N) asked, giggling- "I am pretty sure they put that after the last time the guys played here!"
I heard her laughing, but I keep staring around me, trying to convince myself this is going to go well.
- "Hey, I was thinking tomorrow we could have brunch with JJ and Will. I miss her."- she added suddenly- "Unless you have some other plans for us."- I shook my head, licking my lips, still looking around me.
- "Sounds good."
- "Are you ok, honey?"- (Y/N) asked and touched my arm- "You look pale."
- "Me? Really? No, I'm ok."
I smiled, making my best to look natural. But I bet she was right, I must be pale. When you're scared, blood flow increases to your vital organs as part of the fight or flight response, while the blood vessels constrict in other areas, like the surface of your skin. And when your skin gets less blood flow, your complexion turns pale. I thought I could explain to her what was going on, but that was a very bad idea. I couldn't tell her why I was so nervous.
- "Sure?"- she asked and looked at me, concerned.
- "Yeah, I'm perfect. Don't worry, chipmunk."
And just as I said those words, the band walked onto the stage, and everybody started clapping, (Y/N) included. She actually started shouting in support. Mikey looked at her right away and chuckled, waving before grabbing his bass.
- "Hi, I'm Frank. These are my friends."- Frank announced on the mic, and avoided looking at the crowd.
- "Go Paco!!"- and he turned and looked at my girlfriend, smiling.
It's hard to believe both Frank and Mikey still got nervous before a show, considering they did it at least three times a month. Well, and if they still got nervous before performing, what else could I expect from myself that night?
The first three songs passed way too fast. (Y/N) sang along and jumped the entire time. At least she was enjoying the show. I looked around and noticed everybody was there too. Penelope and Morgan were with JJ at the back of the place. Hotch and Rossi stood at the end of the bar. And Lu was on one side of the stage, taking pictures of the band. I jumped a little, just to make sure I still could move.
None of them knew what was gonna happen, and I wondered what Rossi had thought when he stepped into the bar. It was clearly not the type of places he frequented, the same as Hotch, JJ, Garcia, and Morgan. Honestly, the only person who took me to these bars was (Y/N), to enjoy local bands, which I actually liked a lot after all those years. The first couple of times she took me to bars with live rock shows I thought she was trying to prank me. Then I realized people were nice, and no one was gonna beat me, and I finally got to relax, and enjoy the shows.
- "What are we doing here, pretty boy?"- Morgan texted me and I chuckled.
- "Please don't tell me we've got a case"- (Y/N) asked as soon as she noticed I had my phone in my hand.
- "No, Morgan wanted to talk to me. I'm gonna give him a call outside, I'll be right back, ok? Wait right here!"- she nodded and continued watching the show. I walked to a side of the stage and made my way to the back without being seen by my girlfriend, who luckily was really into the show to notice me.
Mikey walked all over the stage as Frankie sang and played guitar. The fact he wasn't the best lead singer, but still everybody enjoyed watching him perform was encouraging. It almost gave me hope.
- "Ok kids, this is the last song!"- Frank announced on the mic and I started jumping on my spot. This was it, I was doing this, it was real.
- "And we are gonna do something kinda different for once. First, I wanna invite my dear friend Shawn to come to the stage with us and join us on the keyboards."- the crowd clapped and cheered, at least they were all being nice.
- "And also, we've got a very special guest tonight. He is my brother, one of my best friends, and the nicest guy I've ever met! Come here before I start sucking your dick, Doctor Spencer Reid!"
I don't know how I managed to move and walked up to the stage. The lights blinded me as soon as I stood in front of everybody, and Frank tapped on my back, helping me to move until I reached the mic, the one he quickly started adjusting to my height. I looked at the crowd and tried to find my girlfriend, who waved and stared at me in shock. I smiled at her and took a deep breath.
- "Hi, my name is Spencer Reid"- I said into the mic and my voice started shaking- "And tonight I wanna dedicate a song to the love of my life, my girlfriend (Y/N)."
I could see her face blushing as she kept looking at me in shock. I was shocked I was going that as well, so we definitely shared the feeling. Shawn started playing the keyboard, I looked at Frank and Mikey and the two of them smiled at me, so I just grabbed the mic and started singing.
Don't wish it away
Don't look at it like it's forever
Between you and me, I could honestly say
That things can only get better
I know I was way out of tune, my voice was shaking, as well as my knees, and I can't hold a note for the life of me. But I looked at my girlfriend, who was still shocked to see me on stage and noticed her big, beautiful smile. And that's all I needed to continue singing with all my heart.
And while I'm away
Dust out the demons inside
And it won't be long before you and me run
To the place in our hearts where we hide
Surprisingly, and despite how awful of a singer I am, the crow started cheering. I could see Hotch and Rossi clapping, along with Morgan from the bar, as Penelope kept recording everything. I chuckled as I heard them cheering and focused my entire attention on (Y/N)'s eyes. I was scared she would freak out and run out of the bar. And that wasn't even the most stressful part of my plan. What did I get into? I didn't care at that moment, because I knew she was totally worth any sacrifice.
(Y/N)'s point of view
What on earth was Spencer doing on that stage? Why was he doing that?! How the fuck did Frank and Mikey get on board with this?! I didn't know what to think or what to do. I just stood there, in front of my boyfriend, who kept singing with all his heart and was absolutely out of tune, one of my favorite songs ever.
And I guess that's why they call it the blues
Time on my hands could be time spent with you
Laughing like children, livin' like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers
And I guess that's why they call it the blues
He reached one of my hands at the end of the chorus and helped me walk onto the stage. He kissed my hand as I stood by his side and looked at the audience for a second. Everybody here is cheering. Did they know this was going to happen?!
Just stare into space
Picture my face in your hands
Live for each second without hesitation
And never forget I'm your man
I chuckled nervously as Spencer pronounced those words in front of our friends. He actually wrapped an arm around my waist and swung with me, dancing on our spot. I was glad Morgan didn't hear him saying that. Well, Frank and Mikey did and they were gonna tease him just as much as Derek would. If not more.
Wait on me, girl
Cry in the night if it helps
But more than ever, I simply love you
More than I love life itself
Spencer kept holding my hand and spun me a few times as he sang. He was nailing it, he was owning that stage. I knew he was scared, but he was committed to his performance. I couldn't help but giggle the entire time, I was so nervous everybody was staring at us, and cheering at Spencer. But at the same time, I was so moved he had prepared this in secret just for me, to show me how much he loves me. It was the most romantic thing on earth, and I didn't know how I was going to top that.
And I guess that's why they call it the blues
Time on my hands could be time spent with you
Laughing like children, livin' like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers
And I guess that's why they call it the blues
Spencer finished singing and the bar blew up. Everybody was cheering and he just looked at me laughing, neither of us really processing what was going on. He bowed and waved at the crowd, but instead of walking out of the stage, as I thought we would, he turned to me and started talking on the mic.
- "Chipmunk, I know I am not the best singer on earth by far, but you are always singing the most beautiful songs to me and that always melts my heart. So I thought I needed to reciprocate you in the most painfully romantic way possible."
I chuckled as he spoke and looked around. Frank and Mikey were with Lu standing at one side of the stage, and "Baby, I'm yours" by the Arctic Monkeys started playing at the back. The whole place was filled with fairy lights and the main lights were dimmed, so it looked pretty romantic for a rock bar.
- "You have made me the happiest man alive ever since the day I met you. Just getting to live my life next to you was enough for me to die happy. But now that I've got you, that you are mine the way I am yours, I just... can't"- Spencer's voice broke and I held his hand tighter.
- "I love you"- I said as tears started falling from my eyes. He smiled and nodded, kissing my hand.
- "I love you too, ma chèrie. And I know this might be too soon for some people, but you and I wasted too much time hiding our feelings from each other. That's why tonight I need to ask you the only thing that could make me complete."
I froze as I stared at Spencer searching for something in his pocket and coming down on one knee in front of me. The crowd gasped as I widened my eyes, not even able to breathe. It was happening. It was actually happening.
- "(Y/N) (Y/L/N) would you marry me?"
I covered my mouth with both hands as I stared at my sweet prince charming, offering an incredibly beautiful ring to me. I looked into his eyes and started giggling, absolutely nervous and giddy with excitement, at the time I nodded and he smiled.
- "Of course I'd marry you, honey!"- in a second, he jumped from the floor and wrapped his arms around me. The entire place started cheering as Spencer hugged me and kissed me.
- "Really?"- he asked, shaking and I nodded, kissing him again.
- "Yes, really. I love you so much!"
- "I love you more!"- we kissed again and Spencer placed the ring on my finger. I stared at it and laughed, still in shock at what had just happened.
- "Congratulations!"- Frank, Lu, and Mikey screamed at the same time as they hugged us.
- "I can't believe this is happening"- I said as I chuckled- "And how did you guys get into this?"
- "Come on, let's get off the stage and we'll tell you everything"- Frank said and started walking. But neither Spencer nor I could move, 'cos someone grabbed my arm and pulled me.
- "Munchkin!! Boy genius!! Oh my god!! You're getting married!!"
- "Penelope?! What are you doing here?!"- I was confused, and it didn't get better when I realized Rossi, Hotch, JJ, Will, and Morgan were there as well.
- "Reid told us we had to come today for a surprise. And now we are all in shock"- Rossi said and tapped Spence's cheek- "Congratulations, kid."
- "Thank you for coming"- my boyfriend said as everybody hugged us.
- "We have so much planning to do!"- and of course, Garcia was ecstatic.
- "Lover boy!!"- Derek teased Spencer- "I can't believe you are getting married!"
- "Guys! We have to clean the stage for the next band, come on!"- Frank announced and clapped his hands- "We can keep celebrating back home!"
- "What?"- I asked and widened my eyes, still in shock.
- "I organized a little get-together at our apartment for tonight"- Spencer confessed, blushing even more- "I hoped you'd say yes and I thought maybe we could have a glass of champagne at our apartment afterward."
- "What? What do you mean with our apartment boy wonder?"- Garcia asked in shock. I opened my mouth to explain, but her expression left me speechless.
- "We... actually started living together a few weeks ago"- Spencer confessed, blushing, maybe a little embarrassed. Sure, he was cool performing in front of a whole bar, but he was nervous to tell our friends we were in fact living together.
- "And you didn't tell us?!"
- "We wanted to keep it a secret for a while until things were more settled and..."- Spencer tried to explain and I nodded. And all I managed to say was:
- "Surprise!!"- and felt Spencer's arms around me again. I stared at him, tears filling my eyes as I held his hand tight and simply smiled.
- "I love you so much, honey bunny."
- "I love you more, ma cherie."
- "Come on! Knock it off!"- Mikey argued, but Lu laughed at him.
- "They are about to get way worse, so get used to it."
- "Shit, and we have to work with them"- Rossi added, making us laugh as we walked out of the bar.
While we were out of our apartment, Lu managed to get everything ready for us. Spencer had gotten drinks and food in advantage and hidden it all at Lu's. I was shocked. I honestly never saw any of that coming. As soon as I opened the front door I read the "Congratulations Reids" sign hanging on the wall and nearly started crying again. There were balloons and decorations, it was a party! And I was completely in the dark about everything.
- "Spencer Walter Reid, you lied to me"- I argued as I stared around us. The team and our friends were getting settled and I still couldn't believe I was engaged to my best friend.
- "Yes, for three weeks I kept lying to you every day"- he confessed with a massive grin- "I was a little worried your profiling skills were not working at all this entire time."
- "Hey! I trusted you! Now I know I can't!"
- "No, you can't stop trusting me now, how am I going to surprise you for our anniversaries to come?"- Spencer held me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist, and kissed my lips sweetly.
- "I am never going to get used to seeing you acting like a couple"- JJ said and shook her head. I hugged Spencer and hid my face against his chest.
- "You kinda get used to it after you bump into them sucking faces every day for a month"- Morgan said (more like complaining) but still kept a silly grin on his face.
- "Yes, Strauss even forced us to go through an entire PDA seminar because of those two"- Rossi added, chuckling.
- "That wasn't just our fault!"- I argued right away- "I don't call my coworker chocolate thunder."
- "No, but it's a known fact that your coworker tells you during his lunch break that he wants to read to you while you are naked in bed"- Penelope's words made me blush in less than a second, and what made it all worse was knowing Mikey and Frank heard her.
- "Read her naked? That's nothing, once I walked into them having phone sex"- Frank said right away and I nearly yelled.
- "We were not having phone sex!!"
- "Situation said otherwise"- my friend added nonchalantly and I smacked his arm right away.
- "I swear, if you keep telling that story, you are not going to the wedding"- I threatened Frank and he fakely gasped, pretending to be insulted.
- "Ok guys, enough."- Spencer chuckled - "How about we make a toast?"
Everyone grabbed a glass and champagne bottles appeared out of the blue. I held my glass and Spencer's hand as I watched him thank our friends.
- "Honestly, this wouldn't have been possible without Frank, Mikey, and Lu. Thank you so much, guys, for all your help. Frank, I know you struggled hearing me sing during rehearsals"- Paco chuckled right away and raised his glass.
- "I never heard anyone who sang worst than me, you really gave me hope, doc."
- "I'm glad I inspired you"- Spencer laughed and continued- "Thank you guys for helping me propose to my lovely lady, I will always be grateful for all your support and encouragement during the last couple of days."
- "It was a pleasure, doc"- Mikey said raising his glass- "We all knew this was going to happen eventually anyway."
- "Yeah, it was shocking, but none of us is actually in shock right now"- Garcia added as everybody nodded- "Except for the fact you never told us you were living together."
- "I'm glad to hear that, 'cos I was a little scared you were all going to say it's too soon"- Spencer confessed and looked at our friends.
- "Kid, after how long it took you to tell her how you felt, I am glad you proposed within two months"- Rossi's words made me chuckle. Spencer raised his glass and simply said.
- "Thank you for sharing this amazing moment with us."
- "Cheers"-everybody replied and sipped their drinks.
- "Also, I hope you know this is not your engagement party. I am throwing you one in a few weeks in my mansion"- David announced and everyone cheered.
- "Thank you, papa pasta"- I reached out and held his hand for a moment, he squeezed it and cut me a big grin- "And thank you all for coming. I am sure you were all shocked when you heard the band."
- "The band was great, but when boy wonder stepped on the stage I was like "Wow! I never saw this coming in a million years'"- Penelope said- "And then he proposed and it all made sense! I kinda suspected this could happen tonight, but I refused to have hopes. After all the years you made us wait to get together, I really thought this was gonna take another five years in the making."
Spencer's point of view
I stared at (Y/N) standing on the other side of the room, piling dishes and glasses in the sink. Everybody was gone after sharing a happy moment with us. Finally. Don't get me wrong, I love our friends, but that night I realized that the ring on (Y/N)'s finger might be the biggest turn-on I had ever had.
I stood by the kitchen door and stared at her in silence. She looked gorgeous even doing daily chores. I still couldn't believe she wanted to marry me and spend the rest of her life with me. I was just a man and she was a goddess, how could she long for a lifetime with me? It made no sense. I had never been so lucky before. I had never been lucky at all, in fact. So if that goddess had fallen in love with me, the only thing left to do was to worship her as she deserved. And that I knew I could do until the day I died.
- "What is my lovely fiancée doing?"- I asked as I walked to her and wrapped my arms around her middle, standing right behind her.
- "Cleaning a little, so we don't have a messy kitchen in the morning"- she replied and rested her head against my chest- "I loved the way you just called me fiancée, by the way."
- "Did you know back in the mid-19th century, English borrowed that word from variants of the French verb fiancer, which means "to betroth"?
- "I love it when you talk facts, my sweet fiancé. Tell me more"- she whispered as she turned and faced me with a big grin.
- "The masculine form of the word is fiancé, with just an e at the end; while the feminine form is fiancée, with a double e, though the pronunciation of both is identical."- she smiled and kissed me, playing with her sweet lips against mine and running her tongue between them for a very brief instant. Way too brief for my liking.
- "Who would have imagined?"- she replied and smiled.
- "I'm guessing you, 'cos I just remembered you are a master in linguistics"- (Y/N) chuckled and nodded.
- "It's ok, it sounds cooler when you say it."
- "That's not ok. Let me make it up for that lousy fact, ma cherie."
- "How are you planning to do that, honey bunny?"- I just smiled and scooped her in my arms to start walking to our room- "What are you doing?"
- "Showing you how much I love being your fiancé, with just one e"- she laughed as I laid her on the bed and hovered over her, kissing her immediately. My hands cupped her face as I held her in place, positioning my body right upon hers. Her fingers played with my hair, and I moaned against her lips at the sensation. I loved it when she did that. I could live in that kiss and die happy any second.
- "You have been extremely romantic today, honey"- she whispered and giggled- "Maybe I should reward you."
- "No chipmunk. Tonight you are mine."
- "I'm yours"- she whispered and smiled as if the sentence had just hit her- "I've always been yours and now I'm gonna be yours until the end of time."
Her words melted my heart and I had to fight the tears, because of all the sweet things she had said to me over the years, those words were the prettiest and most meaningful. I caressed her cheeks and kissed her again, tasting her in my mouth. The warmth of her body underneath me was captivating, and it felt like a magnet, keeping me in place, unable to move.
- "I wanna feel you in me"- she whispered against my lips- "Please."
To hear her begging made my cock get even harder underneath my clothes. And that was a problem: there was too much clothing on us at the moment.
My hands quickly, but carefully peeled off her clothes from her body, as she tried to do the same with me, getting rid of my sweater and shirt in no time. She was now naked underneath me and I stood for a second to get out of my pants and boxers, as I stared at her in adoration.
- "Did you know that ring makes you look very sexy?"- I confessed as she blushed more, if possible.
- "No, I had no idea."
- "Yes, I can't imagine what your wedding ring will make you look like. I'm gonna have trouble keeping my hands off you after we get married"- (Y/N) laughed and I finally got rid of all my clothes and quickly returned to my place, between her legs. I kissed her with hunger as my hands moved up and down her body, as my hard cock rubbed against her clit.
- "Why would you try to keep your hands off me? I'm gonna be your wife, you'll have to fuck me hard every day. That'll be your duty"- she murmured between kisses, and I groaned at the thought of her being my wife- "And you wanna fulfill your conjugal chores, don't you?"
- "Yes"- I managed to give her a breathy answer as I focused on leaving sloppy kisses on her neck, as one of my hands pinched her nipple, toying with it between my fingers. I felt one of her hands moving slowly to my dick, and she slowly guided it to her entrance.
- "Eager, aren't we?"- I whispered and she giggled.
- "You have no idea how much I want you right now, daddy"
- "Tell me"- I begged right away, as her fingers played with my dick, stroking it and teasing me.
- "I want you so much I nearly dragged you to the bathroom earlier when the guys were still here. I've been wet since we were at the diner, and I just wanted to come back home and feel you filling every inch of me. I need you to feel your cum dripping from me."
- "Fuck"- I mumbled and focused on her breast again, licking them as she kept stroking me. Until this time, I begged her- "Please, let me fuck you. I need to feel you wrapped around my cock."- but she didn't reply. Instead, she guided me right to her entrance and my dick moved in slowly.
- "Oh god"- she mumbled against my shoulder- "You feel so good, Spencer. Please, fuck me."
And she didn't need to ask me twice. I slowly started moving inside her, as my lips focused on her neck, exposed to my will.
- "Is this what you were longing for, ma cherie?"- I asked her and she nodded, biting her lips, as soft moans erupted from her. That was music to my ears. I moved faster, feeling her nails scratching my back. I held her close to me the entire time as if she might disappear from one minute to the other. Which, I had always been afraid of.
- "I love you so much"- I heard her whispering- "Yes, daddy, just like that"
- "Oh, ma cherie, you are so tight and so warm, I really could just live inside you."
- "I won't object"- she answered and giggled- "I just wanna be yours"
- "And I, yours"- I rested my forehead on hers and stared at her beauty for a minute, trying to soak it all in.
- "Please, marry me"- I literally pleaded and she smiled.
- "You already asked and I already said yes, honey"- I nodded and sped up my peace, feeling her wrapped around my cock, all warm and wet, just like heaven.
- "And can we have a lot of babies?"- the question slipped my lips without me actually thinking of it, and when I heard it, I realized I had fucked it up. That wasn't the moment, I knew it, but I couldn't help it.
- "All the babies you want"- she gasped and looked at me. I smiled and so did she. Our lips were inches apart, and her moans kept encouraging me to fuck her a little harder, a little faster.
- "That's a dangerous answer, ma cherie."- I whispered and bit her lower lips, earring a soft whimper from her.
- "I'll take my chances."- she smiled and kissed me. I moved one of my hands between her legs and slowly started rubbing her clit, feeling her tremble underneath me.
- "Please don't stop, honey."
- "As you wish"
I could feel her walls pulsating around me as her moans became louder. She hid her face on the crock of my neck and bit me as her climax approached faster. I could feel my own release getting closer as well.
- "Please Spencer"- she whimpered.
- "What do you need, ma cherie?"
- "Make me cum, I wanna cum with you and feel you spilling inside me"
- "Fuck!"-
I rested my forehead against her and kissed her slowly. My hips kept crashing against her body as waves of pleasure rocked us. I kept up with my pace and felt her rise her hips a little, helping me reach that exact point inside her that made her come undone.
Her body twisted in pleasure as my fingers kept playing with her clit and I watched her cum underneath me as an opera. I could watch her unravel in pleasure forever.
- "I love you"- she whispered, panting, and kissed my lips before I let myself go into the pleasure and came inside her with a loud groan. She wrapped her arms around me as tight as possible while I came, and kissed my neck, marking me.
- "I love you too"- I managed to say a few minutes later, feeling the sweat on my forehead and her fingers playing with my hair again.
- "Sir, you are too good to me"- she whispered and smiled- "You make me so happy sometimes I feel it's not fair."- I chuckled and kissed the top of her nose, as I stayed still inside of her for a few more minutes, enjoying her warmth.
- "I know exactly how you feel, chipmunk."
(Y/N) was asleep next to me later that night, but I wasn't able to close my eyes. Her head rested on my chest as my arms still held her close to my body. I sighed and tried to chase away every sad and depressing thought from my head. I was too happy to be real, and that scared me. I had never been that happy and a voice inside me kept reminding me I didn't really deserve it.
- "Please, never leave me"- I whispered and kissed the top of her head.
(Y/N)'s point of view
The news of our engagement made mom and dad very happy. They were so excited they actually planned a family dinner with my brother (who was now single again) and no one fought. No one. It was magic. I had never seen mom so excited before in my life. She hugged Spencer over ten times during the night. And each time I reminded her he didn't like touching, but he dismissed my words with a smile and a simple shake of his head.
- "It's ok, chipmunk. I like feeling welcome."
- "Oh god! You are so welcome in this family, Spencer!"- and so, mom hugged him again, making dad laugh.
- "I had never seen her so happy before."- I pointed out as I poured more wine.
- "That's 'cos she was sure you were never going to get married"- Phoenix explained and lifted his glass to me, waiting to serve him some more as well- "Because of your work, not because you couldn't"- he added with a smile.
- "Sure..."
Diana was excited as well. Spencer sent her a letter telling her how the proposal went, and I added a polaroid picture of us from that night's celebration. When Spencer told me it was his mother who gave him the ring, I wrote her a whole letter myself, in gratitude not only for the gesture but also for her support. She replied in a few days, with a lovely letter calling me officially her daughter, and notifying me she would call me only that so from now on. Her letter also included a quote from Plato, which seemed so fitting for the moment it watered up my eyes when I read it: "Every heart sings a song, incomplete until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet."
I was in heaven.
Until we got a five am call to go to the BAU on a Wednesday morning. That wasn't normal. And there was not enough coffee in the entire FBI to keep me awake that morning. I sat at the table in the meeting room and looked around at my friend's sleepy faces. Derek was serious, staring at his notebook, Rossi and Seaver were talking about something, and Spencer was playing with my hand on the table. García walked in, looking scared, and stared at us, counting.
- "Where's Hotch?"
- "Any minute."- Rossi replied, not taking his eyes from his iPad screen
- "I didn't get a file sent to me. Did a case go directly to him?"- she asked as she sat down at the other side of the table.
- "Don't know."
- "When's the last time he called a meeting this early?"- Seaver asked and I was scared of that answer, 'cos it was the thought I had ever since the phone rang and I didn't even want to bring it up to not scare Spencer. Though it was obvious he knew it too.
- "Three years, eight months ago."- he answered and I squeezed his hand.
- "And what happened?"- Seaver seemed confused.
- "Gideon left."- I whispered and Spencer nodded. That freaked García right away.
- "Who's leaving?!"
- "Nobody's leaving, babygirl"- Derek sentenced right away, but he looked at us and I could read the nervousness on his face. He wasn't sure of what was happening, none of us were. And after Emily's death, I was afraid to lose another teammate. And sometimes I felt my life with Spencer was so perfect, something very bad was bound to happen.
- "I appreciate everyone coming in early."- Hotch said suddenly, walking in a hurry.
- "What's going on?"- Rossi questioned right away and my heart skipped a beat in fear of very bad news.
- "The Director called a meeting last night to discuss budgets."
- "They skipped over Strauss?"- Rossi seemed shocked.
- "She's away."- Aaron dismissed the question and continued- "The Bureau is facing a lot of changes and this unit is no exception. Over the next few weeks, each of you is going to be asked if you'd like to stay with the unit.
- "What?"- the question just left my lips and never went through my brain.
- "Why wouldn't we?"- Spencer asked, confused and I immediately held his hand again, going against all the PDA rules.
- "There are other options for you out there. And while I want the unit to stay together, I understand completely if you want to see what the alternatives are."
Hotch looked at us with something that could be described as crestfallen, but he kept trying to hide it behind his hardest face. I looked at Spencer and he turned to me. Neither of us liked the idea of leaving the BAU, and less the thought of losing another teammate. This was really bad timing.
- "Morgan, there's renewed interest in you from the New York office."- Hotch added and we all turned to Derek right away.
- "Nobody's called me."
- "They will."
- "That doesn't mean I'm gonna go."
- "Oh, I know."
- "Are you staying here?"- Seaver asked and I focused all my attention on reading Hotch's face as the thought his answer and finally said:
- "It's my intention."- it was clear it wasn't his decision to make. Someone wanted to shake our team. But why?- "All I ask is if you are contacted by another division that you let me know."
Hotch's speech was cut by his cell phone. I was still shocked and scared as I heard him saying to whoever had called that we were going to be there in 20 minutes. None of us moved our eyes from him during the time that phone call lasted.
- "Virginia State police believe they've uncovered a serial killer. They need us at Zacha Road and Route 7 as soon as possible. Morgan, you and Dave get out there."
- "What about this?"- I asked him and Penelope nodded.
- "Yes, we need to talk about this, Hotch."
- "We can talk about it later."- he simply replied and stood up. I looked at my teammates, all of us still trying to process what had just happened. But there was no time, we had to catch a serial killer. Again.
- "Relax, you know I'm not going anywhere"- I said to my boyfriend as soon as I reached his desk.
- "I know. Me neither."- he assured me and we both nodded as if we had just made a silent vow- "Well, I guess this is gonna be a long day."
- "I'll make a nice dinner to compensate."- my words made him smile and his eyes shone with happiness. We had each other, and that was all that mattered at that moment.
Spencer's point of view
(Y/N) made coffee and we started working on the geographic profile of the case with Ashley. Hotch locked himself in his office and none of us mentioned what had happened during the morning. Instead, we just worked. So far, all we knew was that a potential serial killer was killing and moving victims between states.
- "The only reason we have this case is because of an accident."- I mumbled, staring at the map.
- "You know the odds of that?"- Ashley asked and I heard my girlfriend chuckling.
- "Is that rhetorical? 'Cos you know he does"- Ashley smiled at (Y/N)'s comment as I just continued staring at the map on the board.
- "You think the unsub is working alone?"- Ashley asked us, but instead, (Y/N) asked her.
- "What do you think?"
- "Unlikely. It's high-risk to move one body out of state, but two?"- Seaver answered, and my girlfriend nodded.
- "Let's check the facts. Paige was abducted months after having Jake in captivity, and he traveled with both, which means he's criminally sophisticated."- (Y/N) pointed out as I nodded
- "Yes, it seems more like an organized operation as opposed to an individual offender."- I added, as she continued speaking.
- "Then he's probably done this before."
- "You think there are more victims out there?"- Ashley asked and I shook my head.
- "Impossible to say until we figure out how those two were targeted."
García walked in and held (Y/N)'s arm. She seemed excited or nervous. Probably both.
- "She is here!"
- "Who?"- (Y/N) wide opened her eyes and looked outside to the bullpen.
- "SSA Andi Swan! She's the head of the Domestic Trafficking Task Force and I love her work, she is a genius!"
- "Why is she here? Do you think Hotch is interviewing her as Emily's replacement?"- (Y/N)'s words froze me. I never thought of anyone replacing Emily, and getting a new teammate didn't feel right just yet.
- "Apparently she is collaborating with the case. Anyway, I have to run open cases for the last two years without any parameters to narrow it down, so I'll leave you, kids, for a while"- Garcia waved and walked out of the conference room.
- "Considering they are traveling with their victims, we need agent Swan's help"- I sipped my coffee and (Y/N) turned to me, nodding.
- "Yeah, and we need all the help we can get to finish this case quickly."
- "How are the wedding plans by the way?"- Seaver asked out of the blue. The fact she was the only one on the team I didn't invite to the proposal wasn't really a shock to anyone, 'cos they all knew she and (Y/N) had a very rocky relationship until Prentiss' death, and I didn't want to push it. She congratulated us as soon as she heard the news, though. And so far, she has acted very nice about it.
- "Slow"- (Y/N) sighed, staring at a bunch of papers- "We have been trying to find a place for the reception, but we haven't had much time to visit any because we have been way too busy with cases."
- "Rossi said you could use his mansion"- Ashley suggested- "That's a nice venue"
- "Yeah, we know, but we don't want to take advantage of his generosity."- I say and smile- "Besides, we still got time"
- "Yeah, we are not in a hurry."- (Y/N) added the second Hotch walked in with agent Swan, and they started filling us in with everything the Domestic Traffic task force knew about the case.
The wedding plans had been stressful, but fun. It was something I never pictured myself doing, but it was fulfilling in a way. (Y/N) and I were working on our budget and our guesses list. I was glad we didn't know many people. She asked if I wanted to invite my dad, but I didn't want to, it didn't feel right. We still hadn't set a date, but we weren't in a rush. We just wanted everything to be perfect.
- "Here are the missing coeds since 2009."- García's voice took me from my thoughts as she walked into the office and left a considerable pile of files on the table.
- "Wow."- Seaver's reaction was funny, both (Y/N) and I smiled as we saw her shocked face.
- "Thank you sweety"- my girlfriend thanked our friend- "Let's look at the last-known locations on these files. Maybe there's an overlap, so we can start narrowing this down"
- "They're from all over the place."- Penelope whispered the bad news and (Y/N) frowned.
- "Fuck, ok so then let's think. These guys hunt in target-rich environments, right? Let's start looking for clubs, malls, that kind of thing."- (Y/N) turned to Seaver and the two of them started going through the files at once.
- "What are Morgan and Rossi finding?"- I asked García
- "Uh, a lot of mud on the car and the victims."
- "Mud? Did it rain here?"- I frowned confused. That didn't make much sense.
- "No, not here. South. Morgan has a theory that based on the gas mileage, they must have filled up within 70 miles of the accident."- García explained as I nodded
- "Gotcha. How many gas stations do you find?"
- "Forty-two".
- "How'd you narrow that down?"- I asked and she stared at me perplex
- "I didn't."
- "Why not?"
- "I didn't have any more parameters."
- "Never stopped you before."- she looked at me and sighed, turning around and heading back to her office, shouting "I'll be right back!" on her way out. I looked at (Y/N) and she sighed.
- "You are doing the dishes tonight"
- "What? Why?"
- "Thanks, Reid."- Seaver added and I just stared at them, confused.
But I didn't have to do the dishes, 'cos we weren't home for dinner. We were stuck with the case and with an SSA missing, probably taken by the group. Meanwhile, we were all still thinking about that morning's meeting and the future of our team. Was this our last case together? Who was going to leave? I just wanted to solve the case as fast as possible.
As the team left to catch the unsubs, (Y/N) and I were left in the BAU with García in her office, following the whole mission.
- "I schedule two visits for this weekend if we are in town"- (Y/N) announced suddenly- "The Art Club of Washington and The Red Fox inn Tavern."
- "Jesus! That place is amazing!"- Penelope nearly jumped from her chair as she heard (Y/N)'s words- "How into the planning are you?"
- "Not really too advanced"- my fiancée sighed- "We've got time to settle on the guest list and a budget. That's it."
- "Honey, that's more than you had two months ago."- I smiled at Pen's words and wrap an arm around (Y/N)'s shoulders as she kept staring at her hands on her lap.
- "Are you ok?"- I whispered and she took a few seconds to answer. And when she did, she cuts me a short smile and nods.
- "I really hated Hotch's talk this morning"- she mumbles- "I don't want anything to change. I can't deal with change again."
- "Nothing will change between us, I can promise you that."- I replied and kissed her temple. She sighed and nodded, trying to smile at me. Somehow, I felt as if I was lying to her. I didn't want anything to change, but I couldn't promise that either.
And I had no idea that in less than four months, everything I knew would fall to pieces.
You can read the whole trip to Hawaii story here
Series Masterlist | General Masterlist | Prequel Masterlist
Previous chapter | Next chapter
Previous chapter | Next chapter
Taglist:
General tag list
@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @muffin-cup @cynbx @meowiemari
Spencer Tag list @calm-and-doctor @lovejules888
DIWK Taglist @tvandfanfic @shilohpug @eternalharry @fandomtrash2405 @eyakoroleva @nani-2305 @padsfirewhisky
BIY tag list
@miaxx03
#Criminal minds#Babymetaldoll writes#Spencer Reid#Spencer Reid x reader#Spencer reid x you#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#mgg#matthew gray gubler fanfic#matthew gray gubler
146 notes
·
View notes
Text
Summer’s Warmth and Tracing Gold
Pair: Chamber/Male! Reader
Type: One-Shot - 2013 words
Genre: Fluff, Mildly Suggestive
Summary: It was a rare treat sitting in peace without anyone disturbing you. Chamber had busied himself with a book, truly relaxed as he reclined in a chair. You, sitting between his legs on the floor, had caught the glimmer of gold. Heavily intrigued, you don’t even realise where your hand is going.
TW: Mildly Suggestive Language, Mild Touching (Nothing Explicit), Suggestive Ending and Swearing
A/N: Taking a moment to write something for Chamber bc I miss writing for my favourite Val guy- I can’t lie, this is rather self-indulgent and slightly different to what I usually do so I'm hesitant about posting this.
I was reading through all the fics I’d missed on the Val tag while working, and I absolutely adore the ‘Tattoo Tour’ fic by the wonderful, talented @contingentconstellations (Please do check them out if you somehow haven’t already. They’re an amazing fic writer!) I was v inspired to write something stemming from that ^^ I will be posting more requests soon, bare with me.
««——– ≪ °◇◆◇° ≫ ——–»»
Today was a free day. A whole day of pure rest and peace to ease the tensions that had been rising in the Protocol. Even the kindest of people were reaching their limit (Raze swore she’d never seen a scarier look on Sova). It really didn’t help that temperatures were rising with the coming Summer months, against an AC system that was spotty at best. Unless you were lucky enough to snatch a spot at the commons room, one of the only places where the air conditioning was always kept pristine, you were out of luck.
Luckily enough, the winds seemed to favour you today as you opened the windows in your dorm room. The breeze was refreshing, cooling against your warmed skin. It was especially nice to relax in the chair in the corner, near the window. It was cool, private and secluded away from other agents- and it had the perfect lighting from the afternoon Sun for some light reading!
… And that’s how you’d ended up crammed in the corner of your room with your beloved boyfriend, Chamber.
He’d knocked, waltzing in with a lop-sided yet loving smile you couldn’t resist and a question you couldn’t, or more so, wouldn’t say no to. Even if it were slightly uncomfortable to be near each other in the warm weather, the alone time and more freely offered affection (due mostly to being without prying eyes) more than made up for the stuffy discomfort. Chamber was quick to make an offer, given the singular seat. It was tempting at first to sit on his lap, so you both could be near the window (and each other), but the body heat in an already muggy room made you scrunch your nose at the thought. It would be sweaty and sticky, and honestly you’d just had a shower to try and freshen up and cool down.
In a compromise, you’d nestled yourself on the carpeted floor despite Chamber’s worried tone- with him passing (forcing) you a pillow to at least make you more comfortable. Propped on the soft cushion, you’d leaned your head back to rest against the plush chair, within the space between Chamber’s legs. From which, he’d made a small, lewd comment. He couldn’t help himself when he was with you,
“Ah, you look so good between my legs, mon chéri,” his teasing grin as he looked down at you past his book made you shift slightly. You’d uttered his name with a mock warning tone, turning your head away slightly to fight the warmth that spread across your cheeks. Yet, the wind streaming through the window provided no such solace- leaving you to fluster under his prying gaze.
You’d sat like that in peace, quietly basking in the crisp air. His free hand would comb through your hair, before turning a page of his book, making you sigh in relaxation. Sometimes he would gently rub your temple, massaging your scalp- smiling to himself as he heard you croon from the attention. Though, as wonderful as this rare, mundane moment was, your hands were growing fidgety and antsy. It was a common habit you’d gotten too far deep into, with the rest of your body being at ease and too lax to move but your hands being stubborn- remaining the wandering type.
As you turn your head, you end up pressing your cheek against the bare part of his thigh. Your eyes are curious as they look over and roam, realising what he was wearing. You had only seen Chamber in shorts a handful of times. It figures he’d only really wear them in rather toasty conditions.
Thinking you were asking for affection again with the contact, his hand returns again to comb through your strands- massaging parts of your head. You hum in appreciation, but keep your eyes focussed on the gold that lines his leg. You had seen what his tattoos looked like past the collars of his shirts and buckles of his trousers, but those were more… intimate times. You were more caught up and enthralled by him than the golden glimmers that trailed around his body. The most you’d acknowledged them during those rather steamy times was when you ran fingers down them, tracing them as you-
You quickly dispel the dirty thoughts. Being horny during Summer wasn’t exactly a good mix. Sweat was already enough to deal with without such strenuous activities.
You reach out absentmindedly, finding a new activity to occupy your hands with. It’s flexible and bends under your fingertips as you drag them across the metallic plating. And, with the way the window is casting light, it almost looks like it’s sparkling. Your finger follows the trail, humming some song you’d heard from Chamber’s phone to yourself as you trace the golden line up his gilt calf.
You’re not really paying attention to where you are on his leg, autopilot running your actions. The patterns wrapping his body were beautiful and striking, just like him. That was more than enough reason for you to admire them with full focus. I mean, you couldn’t really recall a time you truly saw the full pattern on his body. Just vague ideas of where you’d hazily seen gold adorn his figure.
As your travelling fingers reach past his knee in its trail, you’re unaware of the eyes that peer curiously down at you. Your touch along his leg had been slightly ticklish, garnering and pulling his attention from his book to you. You were quite the sight, wonder and amazement in your eyes as you followed your hand. It’s adorable. There’s an amused smirk on Chamber’s face at this thought, his head tilting slightly to the side away from his book.
You remain pleasantly oblivious however, despite the chuckle above you, before you reach the edges of his shorts. You don’t seem deterred as you continue on to the upper half of his thigh, before a hand rests on your wrist. There’s not enough pressure to push you away or pin it down, his fingers simply rubbing circles on the flushed skin. It was a reminder he was there, really. A coy touch intended to scare you; an encouragement to keep going,
“And what do you think you’re doing, pretty boy?” He’s practically purring the rhetorical question, lifting an eyebrow as he watches the realisation spread across your face. There’s a deep sense of amusement he gets every time he flusters you like this, always eager to see that cute face you make as you try and shy away. The previously balmy temperature skyrockets, heat flushing your features- smothering you.
You’re a fumbling mess, stumbling over your words as you remember what you were doing and where exactly your hands were wandering. You want to move your hands to cover your face, but you don’t want to pull away from his “grip”. Your other palm lays flat on the ground, frozen despite nothing chaining it down. It almost feels like an unspoken command to keep your hands where they were.
“Oh, uh, ah, sorry, it’s just my hands- I thought- and your tattoos they- they’re so pretty and-“ it’s too warm to think and you’re too embarrassed to stop and think straight. It’s like you’re short circuiting, still as a statue as though you’re a deer in the headlights. The marksman can’t hide the laughter that spills from his lips, his other hand placing his book down to cover his mouth a slight. You pout at him, averting your gaze to save some of your dignity. Composing himself, he offers you an apologetic look before gently pulling on your arm to urge you up. You don’t have it in you to complain about the heat,
“Come here,” he beckons, helping you up onto his lap and ushering you closer, before burying his head in the crook of your neck, “I do apologise, mon amour, you’re just too precious sometimes,” he muses partly into your hair as he runs his hand down your back affectionately. The weapons designer has a habit of teasing you a lot of the time, just for your reaction.
Chamber holds you close as you melt against him, letting the open window attempt to cool you down again. You shake your head, feeling your heart rate calm down and rationality sink itself back into your brain,
“What am I gonna do with you, Vincent…” you make an exaggerated sigh, smiling all the while as you look down at the side of his head not tucked into you- the bands of gold shining brilliantly under the gleam of the afternoon sun. A reminder of the curiosity that almost got the cat. He chuckles, the vibration sending a bubbly warmth into your chest. No matter how much time passed, the giddiness you felt with him never waned,
“Mm, I’ll make it up to you, mon chou,” he starts, tone low and deep, fingers trailing deliberately slower up your back- before thumbing underneath the thin material of your shirt. His touch feels electric. The breeze hits your back as he exposes it, pulling at the fabric. Your breath catches at the touches and caresses against your bare back, before you start breathing back out- albeit rather shakily. His face is still buried in your neck, you realise, as his mouth kisses at the feverish skin. You yelp as he gently bites, sighing out under his touch- a redoubling of his efforts from earlier. Though this time, there seemed to be a deeper intent than making you blush.
You could feel the flush on your cheeks re-emerging with a vengeance, the sticky warmth of your room not helping. The breath of wind from the open window was a paltry relief from the feeling. No matter how minute the action, your body always responded eagerly.
And he knew.
This guy was gonna be the death of you one day.
He draws back just enough to let you look at him fully. The gap was small, yet still way too big for you in your desire-addled brain. You lean forward unconsciously, trying to get close once again- as though under a trance. You needed him back on you, such was very evident. He laughs, a devious, little sound, before planting a firm hand against your chest,
“Ah, ah, patience, mon amour,” The marksman murmurs softly, taunting. He knows the power of his voice, his words- the charm they cast on you. The way you latch onto each one. Chamber basks in the power, smirking at the restless expression now gathering on your face. You want to pout and whine but reserve yourself to a simple “fine”, too proud and embarrassed to admit how impatient you were. For now. The marksman had his ways of making you talk and confess. He is thoroughly amused, however, smirk widening before his slender fingers slink down to your wrist.
You start slightly, tilting your head to the side and your expression perplexed. There’s no further confusion, however, as he guides your hand to the bottom of his shirt. You catch the memo, albeit hesitantly from second guessing yourself, hooking your fingers under the soft material. The Sentinel’s still holding your wrist, smoothly guiding you to tug up. As the cloth pulls up, it reveals more gold gilded upon his skin and you don’t bother to hide your roaming stare. There’s plenty to look at and commit to memory, but you find yourself needing more.
“Perhaps for my apology, I can let you view my tattoos more… up close and personal,” he hums the last part into your ear, and the sudden extra rush of heat to your face is almost head-spinning.
Maybe being horny during Summer wasn’t too bad of an idea right now. The breeze from the window certainly didn’t help your poor horny-driven decision making. But when he looked at you so adoringly, half exposed as he crooned about “what a pretty boy you are”… Fuck.
Well, fuck it, having a third shower of the day wasn’t too annoying anyway. Especially not if Chamber joined you.
#valorant#valorant x reader#chamber x reader#x male reader#x ftm reader#x trans male reader#reader insert#valorant chamber#oneshot
131 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ty for the tag @ihaventpickedausername!
Rules: Post the first sentence in your last 10 works; if you don’t have 10, do as many as you have.
Y’all always manage to find a way to get spoilers, don’t you bkshsjsjks
Anyway, I think I have ten? Idk, let’s see:
1. Echo woke to the smell of blood.
Chap four of Slow Down. Cause ofc it is :P
2. “Just go, I’ll catch up!”
From my Echo meets Hemlock wip which I… barely started… (so this probs won’t be the first line lol) But I have it all planned out! Just need the time 🫠
3. The empty silence in the cockpit was deafening.
From and Angstpril prompt! This one plays on that repeated line of “Just like old times” and uh… it’s v sad lol. Hoping I can do at least a couple of the prompts
4. “In that case, you all are coming with me…”
Really wonder if anyone could guess where this quote comes from lol. And shockingly, this one is both fluff and not Echo centric?? Somehow??? Idk my sister made me do it lol, Tech’s her fave :)))
5. “So what do I call you?” Echo asked, eyeing the bounty hunter suspiciously.
Again, haven’t worked much other than planning the idea on this one, but that’s the first actual line I have down. Absolutely obsessed w this longfic idea, once I’m done with slow down I can’t wait to start this one aaaajsgjshsjsjsk
6. Rain pattered gently against Echo’s armor, sliding off and forming small streams as it flowed past him on the Marauder’s ramp.
Now this one, this is the start of the sequel to On the Reg :)))) (Not gonna spoil the title just yet)
7. The transport shuddered violently as they broke Coruscant’s atmosphere and Echo squeezed his eyes shut, the dull pain flaring in his chest again.
Next chap of Arc Business, which is fairly fleshed out honestly? Idk just not motivated to finish it rn
8. The shuttle was right there.
Yeah….. betcha can’t guess how this one starts bskhsjsjs Basically an AU where Echo escapes Skako on his own, but loses his memory in the process. Confusion ensues, lots of tearful reunions, but uh honestly, it gets a little boring since the batch isn’t there? Might come back to this one and see if I can work them in, idk 🤷
9. The Bad Batch hated regs.
Wow so interesting lol. Pretty much a one shot where the batch realize Echo’s never spoken abt himself despite him always listening to them, and they desperately try to convince him on how important he is to them :))))
And for ten, gotta be honest I don’t have any real lines written for it but I think this bit is funny so:
10. Why hurt one of them when you can hurt both in the exact same way???
Completely self indulgent Fives Lives AU where he’s a sith tormenting them pre-order 66, the batch get him out and help him regain control of his mind only for order 66 to strike and only affect Echo :)))) So it’s the exact same problem, but swapped :))))) Yes this is all pain and no I really doubt I’ll ever write it lol
No pressure tags: @thebispaceace @floundrickthewayfarer @phis-writing <333
#really had to hunt for some of these wips#i honestly don’t have that many i’ve actually started? just an absolute boatload of ideas waiting to be chosen bskhsjsjsk#my notes app ideas are the little toy story aliens and i’m the claw waiting to take them away#saturn sends thoughts#tbb fanfiction
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
fire exists the first in light
guess who’s in love with agnes montague and decided to make it everyone’s problem ❤️ it is me, yes ❤️
honestly this is just self-indulgent fluff because she deserved to have soft and kind and gentle things and she never go to, and jack had such a sweet and bright love for her. idk it just makes my heart clench to think about them.
enjoy! here you can find the fic on ao3 if you prefer ✨
ASHES denote that fire was;
Respect the grayest pile
For the departed creature’s sake
That hovered there awhile.
Fire exists the first in light,
And then consolidates,—
Only the chemist can disclose
Into what carbonates.
— Emily Dickinson
Agnes forgot her scarf.
Jack confirms that’s still the case by stealing another sideways glance at her, as if anything would have changed in the last minute or so.
He’s usually better at not staring at her quite so plainly. Usually, though, he isn’t as distracted.
Her throat is pale and delicate, her skin smooth like cream.
Jack wants to run his index finger down the long, perfect column of it, and press down gently in the hollow between her clavicles.
Instead, he curls his hand into a fist at his side, tendons tensing and relaxing as he tears his eyes away.
It doesn’t last, really. She’s hard to look away from, the way she stands tall, her shoulders drawn back and her chin tilted up, trusting her feet to find their place on the earth even on the irregular terrain of the park.
She approaches most things like that – unwaveringly certain of the end result, never pausing for questions – and sometimes he wonders what that makes of him, when he hardly knows where he’ll be next week. If she’ll look at him one day and decide, as one would decide whether to wear a white or black shirt, to simply never show up on his doorstep again.
It’d hardly be surprising, but he doesn’t like dwelling on it.
There’s no point to it – either she’ll stay or she won’t, but she is here right now, and that’s enough.
He sighs, glancing up at the sky. It looks like rain, but then, every day looks like rain in November. When he risks another look at Agnes, estimating enough time has passed as not to make it weird, she’s already looking back.
Her expression is wide open, thoughtful. His heart twinges sweetly at the sight of her lips, curled into a subdued version of her lopsided smile.
Jack isn’t a poet.
If he was, he’d be able to find better words to describe the way her hair burns against the slate-grey winter sky, dead branches threaded through it like dark, engorged veins. The subtle warmth of her body next to his, growing stronger every time their shoulders brush in passing. The white mist of her breath, thick and opaque like smoke.
He wants to hold her hand.
The next time their arms touch, he can feel the heat radiating from the back of her hands, curling around his wrist like a warning.
He doesn’t reach out. Instead, he swallows, and speaks before he can talk himself out of it.
«Do you want my scarf?» he says. It still comes out tentative, somewhat. He’s nervous around her. At this point, perhaps he’ll never stop, and he’s alright with the idea. It feels right, that there would be a price to pay to see her eyes widening, all amber and muted gold, as she hums in pleased surprise.
Her hand goes to her throat, long fingers wrapping around the naked skin, fingertips tapping an absent-minded rhythm. She nods.
The scarf is stifling around his neck, wound too tightly in his haste to leave the house. He unravels the knot quite gladly at her assent, holding out the bundle of fabric for her to take. It’s easy to imagine stepping in front of her, carefully tucking the ends into her coat. Her fingers twist in the soft cotton, tugging it closer, and he lets go of the thought.
She doesn’t tie it at all, letting it hang loose and swing slightly back and forth as she walks. The black cloth is a stark contrast to the paleness of her – it makes her face look sharper, carved roughly out of bone-white driftwood.
He wonders what she’d look like clad in vibrant greens and the dark yellow of autumn leaves, in robin egg blue and lavender purple. He hopes to be still here in the spring, if only to see a sundress flutter in the breeze around her knees, and feels adrift.
They walk in silence.
It lingers, stretching in the yawning distance between their fingers, scant and yet impossible to breach. It’s familiar.
Agnes doesn’t talk often.
In fact, it’d be maybe more accurate to say she doesn’t talk almost at all, except to offer tidbits of information in response to some rambling anecdote or other about his family or his friends or his job. He had quickly run out of stories, his life exhausting itself into her steady breathing and the cracking of twigs under her weight, and now they spend most of their time together just walking in the rapidly darkening light.
He holds what little she volunteered close to his chest, even if it paints a rather strange picture.
Something about a large family, and religion, and years she spent away, tangled in something bigger than he can understand. She doesn’t mind the cold. She doesn’t like spiders.
The time she told him about the spiders was the only one in which she’d let something like anger slip in her voice – it had seethed, crackling and powerful, and the air around them had grown hazy with the smell of smoke and burning dust.
He’d never talked about it again. He tries not to think too hard about any of it.
It’s kind of hard to do, though, when the only other occasions Agnes initiates conversation involve the kind of question that makes him freeze on the spot, anxiety writhing in his chest like it wants to scoop something out of it.
«Do I scare you?» she asks, today. She’s smiling as she speaks – the sort of there, sort of not smile that makes his heart contract and expand too violently, recoiling against his ribcage like a faulty gun –, her head just barely turned towards him. Her voice doesn’t raise at the end, and it comes out not sounding like a question at all.
She doesn't wait for an answer, either.
Her expression doesn't change, but he can still tell – with the absolute certainty of dreams, that lingering conviction – that she's sad when she wasn't before. Something in her choice, her gaze meaningful and heavy.
«It's okay if I do. I'm supposed to.» she says, and he can't gauge the emotion in her tone but it clings to the words like blood, her expression unreadable. Final.
Jack hates it with furious, single-minded intensity.
Then the streetlamp next to them blinks to life, casting its warm glow against the encroaching darkness of the evening, and suddenly she's awash with light.
It takes his breath away.
Agnes has always been beautiful. Now she's lit from within, almost, and he has the insane thought that if he touched her he'd burn.
He still wants.
Her eyes flicker like a summer bonfire, dark specks of terracotta dancing in her irises. This close he can make out the golden freckles dotting her nose – the red, suffused glow of her cheeks, the rose-tint of her lips he wants to kiss brighter. He might die if he did, he thinks, his wildly beating heart bursting out of his chest at last, but she's real and warm and breathing, and she might well be the only real and warm and breathing thing left in the world, in the island of light the streetlamp paints around them, his breath freezing in the glacial November air before he can fully exhale.
It leaves him unbalanced, teetering on the edge of something he isn't quite ready to face.
He falls.
«Can I hold your hand?» he asks, and it echoes too loud in the quiet between them. Presumptuous, maybe.
Heart rabbiting in his temples, climbing up his throat to pulse in his palate as he waits to see if he finally pushed his luck too far, he waits. Stops two steps behind her, leaving her space.
Agnes doesn't leave.
Instead, she stops, two steps in front. She rummages for a second in the deep pocket of her big black coat, making a small sound in her throat when she finds what she was looking for.
She slips the leather gloves on one at a time, primly, tugging them under the cuff of her sleeves until no skin is left exposed. They're maybe a little small for her – he watches her flex her fingers inside them, stretching them out, like
It's endearing. Even more so when she thrusts her arm behind her, fingers wiggling a little. He can't tell if she's trying to encourage him or just still getting used to the feeling of leather.
Jack takes her hand anyway, and ignores the way his own shakes as he does.
It feels momentous, when she tightens her grip, squeezing gently.
Warmth seeps through where their palms touch, flushed together, sensation coming back tingling and prickly to his cold skin.
«No one had ever held my hand before.» Agnes says, and her smile is more there than it isn't, her mouth soft and open with it. She doesn't sound sad anymore.
«I won't let go until you ask me to.» he says.
It isn't until the words are out he finds they sound as sure as hers ever did.
#tbh i should just go around wearing a 'ask me about agnes montague' shirt because i could talk about her for hours#and have before#(yes it was to saint) (yes that nickname is more and more literal)#(care u if you're reading this)#not to mention there's a joke to be made thereabout the string of fate#if that spider in his flat that she burns to dust had anything to do with it at least#but ANYWAYS#im also writing other things i promise this just happened to get done#unlike my several other wips#and i thought i might as well share it after sitting on it for a couple days#much love i hope y'all enjoy <3#tma#tma fic#agnes montague#jack barnabas#tired writes
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
——— BASICS !
· (PEN)NAME: borbie, borb, birdie
· PRONOUNS: she/her or they/them!
· ZODIAC SIGN: virgo
· TAKEN OR SINGLE: single
——— THREE FACTS !
i’m currently trying to be a content creator off tumblr ( tuber of the v variety! )
i’ve been playing candy crush almost everyday for the past like two months
i’ve been on tumblr since uhhh 2013, maybe even 2012???
——— EXPERIENCE !
· PLATFORMS USED: mainly tumblr, though i originally started off via text messages and kik! i’ve also rp’d on discord, but it’s difficult for me to keep track of and maintain muse for those threads since the back and forth is too fast for me. ofc there was also the skype period
——— MUSE PREFERENCE !
· GENDER: kind of 50/50 really?? i have more male muses than female but i think that just kinda happened. i think i prefer female muses in a way though!
· LEAST FAVOURITE FACE(S): idk what this question actually means but uhhh i guess i dont really lean towards like, “scary” or “aggressive” looking face claims? my muses tend to be on the cutesy or mischievous side, like even nate who is the more serious of the selection is really just a big shit poster, so while he has like aggressive tendencies he’s not really an aggressive face. does this even make sense lmao????
· MULTI OR SINGLE: putting all of my muses onto one blog has been the best move to maintain my sanity
——— FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT ! ♡
· FLUFF: i crave fluff sometimes, i really do. sometimes it’s very repetitive and redundant but honestly sometimes i could just rp the same concept over and over again with different rp partners so see different reactions and the nuances in relationships. like sharing a bath — it’s not a new concept on my blog or my muses’ relationships, but i will always love writing about muses wanting to share a bath together or like sharing a bed together, stuff like that.
especially when it comes to muses like alison and emile who are hopeless romantics and just thrive off of being in love and being cared for — it really is so fcking cute to write fluff when it fuels a close bond
· ANGST: i honestly haven’t written angst in so long, but i def do enjoy it for the sake of character development and exploring dynamics. i’m not really a fan of angst for the sake of angst anymore since it gets really tiring to just make a muse suffer just because especially when it’s like the most outrageous of circumstances, but if there’s actually a direction and a reason to the angst, i really enjoy it. especially if there’s a lot of room for plotting between me and my rp partner
· SMUT: mindless smut sometimes is good in the sense it’s self-indulgent for me, but if it’s overdone, i do get burnt out really quickly. i usually reserve smut for closer rp partners or more established ships, but sometimes i’ll open it up to flings to explore new relationships and situations with muses. but tbh, one of my fave kind of smut is the kind that allows for a lot of exploration of a muse’s sexuality. not just who they’re attracted to but also just like, them learning how to manage and cope with sexual desire, sexual activities, and sexual exploration overall. i especially love this with alison because her perspective is skewed as a result of some trauma, so i always enjoy letting her explore her sexuality with other muses.
· PLOT / MEMES: i absolutely love plotting. i love plotting so much, like it honestly gives me so much joy to yell at people on discord about our muses and just take an idea and spin it into something so much bigger. i like memes too, but i feel like sometimes i get anxious from them just sitting in my inbox even tho there’s technically no rush or obligation to even answer the memes. it’s a weird thing, but memes are def a good way to break the ice sometimes. i wish i was able to send more memes out to people, but it’s hard to find time to sit down and scroll through the memes to find a good one to send to people :pensive:
tagged by: @madamhatter ( weeps this was from ages ago!!!! )
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
my weary heart has come to rest in yours (i found my way home) — 1/1
Summary: "I don't get it," Katara purses her lips, befuddlement clear in the furrow of her brows as she turns to him. "You'd think the Fire Nation would know such an important detail about their own prince."
The Gaang wonders why the Fire Nation doesn't seem to know much about Zuko, like maybe where his scar should be? It opens up a lot of questions that they want answered. Zuko, on the other hand, just wants to sleep.
Rating: General Audiences
Words: 5.7k
Warnings: unbeta’d, zuko-centric, post-ember island players, pre-sozin's comet, zuko gets a hug (as he deserves), non-canon compliant (more like canon adjacent lol), ember island
AN: working title: obligatory the gaang finds out about zuko's scar fic // alt title: a pocket of happiness for my children
title from: Ride Home by Ben&Ben
Also on: ff.net | AO3
Other writing
The atmosphere amongst the occupants of the beach house is sullen and cross following their night out in the theater.
It isn’t lost on them that the edifice they have come to know as their solace belongs to the very monster man who brought upon their 'deaths'. The certainty that it had all been a fictionalized retelling was not enough to temper even the echo of the crowd’s rabid enthusiasm as they cheered the demise of the Avatar and his friends, nor erase the visceral image of the thespian Fire Lord standing before his adoring subjects—triumphant in his accomplishment of world domination.
They step through the threshold of the tyrant’s once home. The air grows thicker in acerbity.
Zuko wants to snark at them, I told you they’d butcher it. If he had been the person he was even a month ago perhaps he would have, but the words wither in his throat. The scene of him engulfed in Azula’s flames, however fake or fantasized, sears across his mind on relentless repeat so that it is more selfish entreaty than consideration that has him abstaining from permeating the burdensome silence with his signature brand of pessimism—realism.
Dinner is an equally stilted affair, the only sound to be heard is the clob of chopsticks against wooden bowls and the crackling of the campfire solemnly harmonizing with the occasional sigh of dejection.
This, however, does not last too long.
He supposes he should have seen it coming. This is the boy who offered his friendship at the slightest show of goodness from him. The Avatar is as buoyant in his movements as his element. Though Zuko has come to learn when it comes to his disposition, it is more alacrity than air that has him flitting from one emotion to another, ensuring he never dallies in his worries for too long.
So when Aang bellows, "That's it!" as he discards his bowl with a careless flick, the remains of his uneaten congee spilling carelessly across the cobblestones of the courtyard, Zuko doesn't so much as blink at his latest antics.
He is more surprised at Sokka's indignant huff seeing as it is the first sound he's made in the past two hours (which is subsequently also the quietest he's ever witnessed the other boy to be in all the time he's known him) since they've arrived.
"I would have eaten that," Sokka mutters irately.
(It is fitting however, that this should be the commentary to break his speechless strike.)
"I mean, what's the big deal? It was just a stupid play!” Aang exclaims emphatically, his voice cracking in his vehemence. “If anything, we should be laughing our butts off—that writer obviously didn't know what he was talking about!"
"Speak for yourself, Twinkletoes," Toph chuckles. "I happened to enjoy my portrayal. It was wrong, sure, but what did you expect from a patchwork of second-hand accounts combined with your regular sprinkling of Fire Nation propaganda? It was dumb, but that was the point. You all know the truth, don't you? Quit being such wet blankets about it already."
After having heard a similar iteration from Toph earlier, Zuko finds no offense from the jibe. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the rest of his companions, save Aang—though even his propensity for optimism appears ready to float away on the next gust of wind.
"At least you were in the play," Suki offers, good-naturedly, if not a bit feebly.
"I think I'd rather just not be in it altogether, if it means I'd have to be depicted like—" Katara shudders before grumbling, as if there truly are no words for that disaster of a parody, "...that."
Zuko wholeheartedly seconds her sentiments.
"Toph's right though!" Aang blusters on, and it all seems rather void but he admires the kid's pluck. "In fact, I think we should all take this opportunity to look back on our adventures—"
Zuko groans. Frankly, he doesn't want to think too much about what it said about him that the Avatar's evasion tactics had relied mostly on improvisation and sheer, dumb luck than calculated military strategy and cunning.
"Or maybe we should just not."
"But Zuko," Aang turns big, round, pleading eyes at him. "Aren't you at least a little curious about what really happened? Not even Toph's heard about half of what we were up to before she joined up with us!"
"You were idiots then, and you're only just a little bit now," Toph snarks. "What else is there to know?"
"Toph," warns Katara just as Sokka sputters, "Hey!"
"It might be good for morale," Suki suggests gently. "I know I could use a pick-me-up."
Zuko gets along with Suki—at least, as well as he is able to get along with anyone. Still, he can't help but shoot her a betrayed glance following her pronouncement. Zuko just wants to sleep, but he should have known better. The minute he starts wanting things is usually the moment they float out of reach.
Suki smiles back unrepentantly, so he sighs in resignation and straps himself down for a long night of reliving his failures (again) and listening to their tales.
"I am a pretty gifted storyteller," Sokka puffs his chest then starts stroking oddly at his face, particularly the area at the sides of his mouth.
Okay? he ponders with a large heaping of confusion.
"That's the spirit, Sokka!" Aang exclaims, but before Sokka can thank him much less get a word in, Aang launches into the story of how the Water Tribe siblings actually found him. Unsurprisingly, it involves less tears—"By which Sokka means no tears!"—and an infuriated Katara and that, he can believe.
Zuko doesn't anticipate being spoken to for the rest of the night. At best, he is a mere purveyor of their communal fire. At worst, an engaged and enthusiastic reaction to the boys' avid narration will be expected of him. And as socially inept as he may be, he has enough tact to refrain from volunteering his side of the events. Even with the amends he's made, he hardly thinks it would encourage rapport to rhapsodize about a time they had been on separate sides at all, no matter how early it had been in their acquaintance. Zuko would (very much) like to retire at some point in the evening without having to worry about suffocating in his sleep.
(He hasn't had that concern for two weeks now, it was practically a new record.)
So imagine his surprise when the focus shifts to him. Toph, much to his mortification, recounts his outburst at being told by a child decked out in derisory Avatar robes (that had to be illegal, right?) that the scar on his 'Prince Zuko costume' was on the wrong side.
"I don't get it," Katara purses her lips, befuddlement clear in the furrow of her brows as she turns to him. "You'd think the Fire Nation would know such an important detail about their own prince."
"Yeah, Sparky." Toph stomps over from the opposite side of their circle to plop down beside him with all the grace of a landslide. "I didn't even know you had a scar until tonight!" She pokes aimlessly at his right cheek. "What gives?"
He stares at her agog before realizing she has no way of deciphering his countenance. So, he responds by addressing Katara's comment instead.
"I don't see why they would," he shrugs. "I'm sure by the time they heard, if they heard about it at all, I had long been banished."
"I'm confused," Aang rubs his head contemplatively. "If you're banished, what's with all the wanted posters? I thought being banished meant you had to stay away, but then they also want to imprison you? You're their prince, it doesn't make sense!"
"Come to think of it," Suki muses, "Why were you banished in the first place?"
"Hold up," Sokka did that thing where he stroked the sides of his face again—seriously, what was up with that?—"I've always wondered, how come you were branded a traitor way before you even joined us? Reading your poster wasn't exactly at the top of our to-do list."
Katara interjects with, "And what were you doing so far out in the South Pole that day we found Aang, anyway?" while Toph reminds him, "Plus, that still doesn't explain why your people don't seem to know anything about you or your scar."
A headache begins forming at his temples from the barrage of questions. He sighs in vexation before regarding Katara.
"Isn't it obvious? What did you think I was doing? I wasn't exactly sailing around for a vacation destination." Then lowly, somberly, at Toph, "And they haven't been my people," he rubs subconsciously at his marred flesh—mind flitting to that war room—always, always there—and to a whole division of loyal soldiers that in the end, he arrogantly assumed he could defend yet ultimately failed to protect. "Not for a long time."
There is silence in the wake of his disclosure, punctuated by the crackle of the tinder as it is disturbed by the gale gusting in from the beach, and an unnameable terseness that fills the air.
"Why—" he's not sure why he whispers, but it feels appropriate given their stricken expressions. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"
Suki ultimately is the one to brave breaking the taut stillness, staring at him with purpose.
"Zuko, when—who—" she stutters with what he speculates is an uncharacteristic timidity. That is until she gathers herself with a deep breath, the query crystallizing on her exhalation.
"How did you get your scar?"
It occurs to him, belatedly, that he may have said too much.
"I don't see how it matters," he retorts, hoping the curtness in his delivery puts an end to this inquisition.
But Zuko never did have much luck getting what he wanted.
(No, he broods with a bitterness he wishes he didn't harbor so much, Azula made sure of that.)
"We don't want to upset you—"
"So don't."
Undeterred, Katara finishes in tonalities as soothing as the morning tide, "But it helps to talk about things that might have hurt you."
Around him, the pressure builds. A deadly gas awaiting a fuse.
"Oh, 'it helps,' does it?" he snarls, rage thrumming like wildfire in his veins—igniting his body, and detonating through his next words. "And who exactly does it help, huh? You sure it's my best interests you have at heart? Or—I know! You wanna know my weaknesses, keep the big, bad fire bender on a leash!" He throws his head back, some facsimile of a laugh escaping his lips. "Unless, of course, you're just saying that to satisfy your insatiable need to mother everyone."
Boom.
"Please, I haven't had a mother in years," and he hates it, he hates how it is his voice now that breaks and his body wilts as the violent cloud of his fury dissipates—all the rancorous contention leaking out of him. "I don't need your ridicule or your pity. I've been fine on my own."
And this is the moment he loses everything, he is convinced. Because this is what Zuko does, and what he is best at. His fingers are but sieves from which good things slip. All of him is a razor blade destined to pierce any that would dare come close. He is downfall personified, he is a plague.
This is how it should be, he reasons, cut him now as they would a festering infection.
(As his father, his sister, his mother, would.)
For broken things beget broken things, and they deserve better than to have him bring ruin upon them all.
But then a hand—hands—ground him, keep him rooted, keep him still.
"Well then," Sokka avers, with his special brand of genial but no less poignant solemnity. "It's a good thing we aren't in the business of dishing out pity. Isn't that right, gang?" He clasps his right shoulder, the gesture teeming with meaning though Zuko is the last person to decode it.
"Ridicule, on the other hand…" Toph snickers. Katara sends her an affronted glare before realizing the futility of such an action. She sighs her discontent instead, before returning her attention to him.
"And you're not anymore," Katara says with an earnestness that confounds Zuko to discover is directed at him. "On your own, that is."
"I don't understand," and truly he doesn't. He knows it is not their way to spill blood (barring Katara's commimation during his early days in the Western Air Temple, which was more than fair), but this is the first he's lost his temper in front of them for no valid reason. His choleric speech had their bonfire flaring with every harsh and erratic breath he expelled, sure signs of his waning control. "Aren't you going to kick me out? At least put me in chains!"
Katara's hand joins Sokka's on his opposite side as she approaches him from behind. He has to crane his neck to ascertain her aghast mien. "For what? For being angry? For talking out of turn?"
(It always boils down to this, doesn't it? Agni, why couldn't he ever just keep his mouth shut for once in his miserable life?)
"I'm sorry," he mumbles, because he is and he doesn't know what the right thing to do or say is.
"I know," Katara smiles, but there is something desolate in the curl of her lips. "You always are," she sighs. "I'm sorry, too."
Her thumb brushes back and forth across the nape of his neck and he would have started at the unfamiliar touch if her apology hadn't already caught him off guard. In truth, this entire night has been an anomaly with how quickly they all have made his head spin in the last few minutes alone.
"You're sorry?" he gapes, genuine bafflement coloring his articulation. "Why?"
"For pushing you to talk about what I should have known was a sensitive topic." It's her turn to squeeze his shoulder. "I really am sorry."
"There's nothing to forgive," he stammers, for there honestly isn't. He's still trying to get over the fact he received an apology, let alone that anyone sought a dispension of forgiveness. From him.
"Katara's maternal instincts and overbearing need to talk about one's feelings can be annoying. Believe me, I know."
"Gee. Thanks, Toph," Katara deadpans.
"But she's right," Toph's roughened hands encircle his left forearm. Compared to the siblings, her grip is near painful, as if to dig in her point. "Bottling it up, burying your emotions… it'll only hurt you more."
"But it doesn't hurt," he insists, stubbornly ignoring the waver in his importunity as his palm spans the breadth of his ragged scar. "It doesn't."
"We're not talking about the hurt there," Katara grazes cool fingers from his back to his front, before placing it prostrate and precise. "We're talking about the one here."
Right atop his heart.
"The monks have a saying," Aang has since nestled on his knees in front of Zuko. Without him noticing, their entire circle has gotten closer so that he is at the center—warm bodies surrounding him from all sides, little planets orbiting the sun.
"Holding onto anger is a lot like holding onto hot coals that you mean to throw at someone else. In the end, you're the one who gets burned."
"What do you want from me?" he questions wearily though he knows the answer.
"Nothing," Katara assuages. "Nothing you aren't willing to give."
"And we know you're a fire bender, buddy, but don't you think a fire shared is a village warmed?" Sokka grins encouragingly before sobering. "Maybe you don't want to, but I think you may need this. You've got all this—this—pent-up frustration inside you. I can't believe we never noticed it before, it's practically oozing out of you! Like pus from a boil!"
Zuko grimaces. "Thanks, Sokka."
Unfazed, he goes on. "Don't tell me you've had someone to talk about this with. I can't imagine you and Azula sitting round a campfire having a heart-to-heart."
You'd be surprised, Zuko thinks, if that night of confessions at the beachside counted at all.
"There's still so much we don't know about you," Aang adds. "We just want to understand."
"But, why?" he blurts, frustration mounting again like a forest fire. He is desperate to fathom their persistence, to decipher the motives behind their inexplicably lambent eyes, their magnanimous looks and their delicate tones.
"Because we're your friends, Zuko," Suki murmurs while everyone makes their approval known one way or another. "Sharing burdens is kinda what we do."
Oh, he thinks dumbly, Oh.
"It doesn't make for a pleasant bedtime story," he states with an almost believable clinical detachment, steadfastly ignoring the pounding of his heart at her proclamation of friendship. "And it's heavy. This is a load I wouldn't wish on anyone."
"All the better," Katara chirps, settling with her knees aside behind him, "that there's five of us then, right?"
Perhaps it is the security found amongst the shadows of the eventide that loosens his tongue. Perhaps it is that Zuko is just too exhausted, figuring that the fastest way to reach his bed is to simply not argue. It might even be the contentment that Aang and Sokka's adage brings him, the closest taste of home he's had since his separation from the person whom he now knows, without question, he loves most in this world. Or maybe it is simply time , here, on this island, the ghost of dual timbres wisened with age—and it can help you understand yourselves—ringing in his ears. And so beneath a collective scrutiny of ingrained amity and determined tolerance and encouragement and just… goodness.
He begins his tale.
He speaks until his already hoarse voice grows even hoarser, the words clumsy and stilted on his tongue, unused as he is to telling his story—along with the extensive range of sensations that come with it, and the illimitable memories it incites within him, some sentimental while others he would rather forget altogether.
He speaks of a mother's love lending him both strength and weakness, of how it should have been enough yet still could never outweigh his longing for the love of a father who scorns him, of a sister he adored until she, too, eventually saw him as nothing more than a hindrance, then an enemy. He speaks of an uncle whose favor brought him places he knew he ought to be but secretly did not think he deserved, of advice dispensed wisely and discarded carelessly, of a compassion that flamed so bright within him a King saw it as too untamable to remain, and so he snuffed it out with a fiery hand to his face. He spoke of lonely years with nothing but sky and sea and the musings of an old man over tea as his only company, of a path he knew deep down had been aimless yet it was all he could hold on to because it was a reminder that he was still real.
"Three years," Suki mouths, devastation written so plainly upon her profile Zuko couldn't bear to look at her. "He had you chasing a ghost for three years."
"So… so what you said… about losing your honor?" Katara mutters wetly, and if that isn't evidence enough of her sorrow then surely, the unceasingly dampening spots between his shoulder blades are.
He winces at the flashback her inquest incites, shaking his head in internal, forlorn reproach. His shame galvanizes him enough to want to explicate his reasonings out loud, for if there is absolution to be found in his ramblings then all the more reason to try.
"For so long, I fooled myself into believing that finding the Avatar meant regaining my honor. It never occurred to me until recently that honor wasn't something that could be taken away from you. It's something you earn for yourself," he sighs despondently. "Some days though, it wasn't even about honor—I just wanted to go home. But more than anything, my father led me to believe that if I captured you then I would finally, finally have his approval—his love," he shakes his head before releasing a hollow chuckle. "What a stupid thought."
"No, no it wasn't stupid!" Toph exclaims. "It's a parent's job to love their kid. And even then it's not supposed to be conditional!"
"I can't believe he would—that he'd bur—" Aang cuts himself off with a jerk, as if the word, burn, is a most foul curse that would be invoked at the slightest whisp. Zuko doesn't dissuade him. There was a time when he felt the same way, too.
"His own son," Aang finishes dazedly, his face a river of tears, a torrent with no signs of abating.
"I'm sorry," Zuko tries again, a little alarmed now at the frequency of watery displays before him. "I didn't mean to make you sad. Oh," in his panic, he thumbs impetuously at the stray droplets coursing down the arch of Toph's cheeks. In this light, she looks exactly her age, so young and slight, yet so contrary to what he knows of the mighty and unflappable earth bender. A pang goes through his chest that he could ever be cause for her melancholy, for any of theirs. "Please don't cry."
"You first," Toph replies, inconceivably subdued and gentle as she reaches up to frame his face. Zuko holds his breath when he assumes she will palm at his scar, which she does. But there is no judgement there, only indubitable acceptance, and comfort, as she brushes roughly at the tears he didn't even know he's shed.
"Oh," he repeats, not for the first, and certainly not for the last, time tonight.
Suki sniffs. "He doesn’t deserve you."
Sokka abruptly declares in hard intonations, "I'm gonna kill him—"
Before he can completely swear his intent, the water in the fountain behind them solidifies into menacingly pointy shards while the earth underneath them trembles dangerously.
"Get in line," Katara hisses darkly at the same time Toph grunts, "Not if I get to him first!"
Sokka's eyes are red-rimmed and gleaming. Still, he announces with a fair amount of acid in his inflection, "I know how you feel about this Aang, but you better hold me back when the time comes cause if I get my hands on that crazy, stupid, son-of-a—"
Zuko lurches forward to cover Aang's ears.
"Sokka!"
It seems the contact is all the incentive Aang needs to throw his arms around Zuko. The fire bender isn't expecting the extra ninety pounds and for all four, gangly limbs to wrap around him like a pentapus so he has no choice but to fall back to accommodate the extra weight, his head landing on Katara's lap as Aang does his utmost to actually meld himself onto his body.
"Slothdog pile?" Toph asks unnecessarily and with a gargantuan amount of glee that the shift in mood gives him whiplash. "No way I'm not getting in on this!"
Toph burrows her head onto his hip, knocking Aang's leg aside as she commandeers Zuko's own left leg like a body pillow. It appears to be all the permission everyone else has been seeking as well, for like dominoes they begin falling into place around him. Katara tucks his head a little more securely on her thigh before leaning her upper body against the lip of the fountain at her back while Suki lists against Sokka who leans his head onto Zuko's right shoulder.
"What—what's happening right now?" he doesn't want to appear too scandalized but he is at a loss for what to do with his limbs, outstretched as they are on either side of him. The Royal family didn't do touch, much less hug. The gesture became even more scarce when his mother… when she was gone, and though his uncle was a lot more free with his affections, it still hadn't warranted familiarity. His muscles contract at the overwhelming amount of contact.
"I wouldn't think too hard." Above him, there are traces of moisture on her visage but Katara chuckles, fond and ebullient now, much to his relief. "Just go with the flow."
"Says the water bender to the fire bender," he bites back weakly, which only fuels Katara's amusement.
Aang fastens his hold around the prince's torso, and he tenses even more.
"You know your dad's wrong, right, Zuko?"
"About what?" he quips sarcastically, but is surprised by the ardency in their antiphon.
"About everything," Aang counters fiercely. "Like, yeah, you chased us all over the world but you never aimed to kill!"
With his lineage it feels like a low bar but he nods his acknowledgement and his gratitude.
"You didn't save me from the pirates, but you kept them from… touching me," her tone is as algid as the glaciers of her homeland, but the rattle of Katara's bones is so prominent that he shakes along with her. "It could have gone a lot worse."
"I wouldn't do you that dishonor," he whispers brokenly, sick at the scenarios he can so acutely guess is conquering her imagination, it's own horrific play dancing along her features.
"I know," she reciprocates, just as gravely, "I know that now."
"You kept your promise. You could have come back, razed our village—"
"And mine," Suki joins Sokka.
"But you didn't."
He frowns. "Those days, my word was the only currency I had that was worth trading."
He doesn't like how they make it—him—sound. Every decent deed he had fulfilled in pursuit of the Avatar was done so as a courtesy mostly to himself. If he was to regain his honor, he had to act with as much honor as his, admittedly dastardly-to-begin-with, mission could provide. Now, Zuko isn't exactly an authority—even on his good days—on altruism but he could at least recognize that in those moments, any clemency administered had been the right thing to do.
"Anyone would have done the same," he defends faintly, then immediately wishes he could take it back when Katara growls.
"No, Zuko," she clenches quivering fingers around the ubiquitous pendant adorning her neck. "No, they wouldn't."
"It's more than that, though," Aang asserts imploringly. "It's just you. It's so obvious, how did we ever not see it before now? It's who you are," he takes a deep breath, the wisdom of a thousand others before him laying siege in his every movement, every syllable. "And who you are is the most honorable guy we know."
He does a double-take.
"You… you really think that?" He shakes his head in frantic incredulity, blood roaring like a storm through his veins. "All of you?"
He looks at each of them in bewilderment—lingers especially on Aang, at the roundness of his cheeks that should be testament to his naiveté yet so contrary to the maturity shadowing his bearing—as if he can divine their rationale through sight alone. He doubts them, and it makes him feel older than sixteen, his cynicism a pallium shackled to his shoulders. But there is a chorus of devout agreeance, Aang's hope a living, tangible thing that he gives to Zuko freely. He fumbles. He doesn't trust the fervor with which it sets him aglow (metaphorically and physically, it would seem, as Sokka comments mildly, "Wow, you're like a heated blanket with how warm you are. Hey, why didn't we think of doing this before?"), but Zuko—even with his infinite skepticism—cannot find it in his fractured heart to reject it.
"Zuko?" Aang prompts, raising his head so he can catch his eye, gray and gold colliding in an affable display of security. "You believe us, don't you?"
"Yeah," Zuko reassures, albeit timorously. He takes a bracing, meditative breath before releasing it, sinking into the downy cosset of their affections as he turns his head to Katara's stomach, lowers his arms to clutch Suki and Sokka closer, bundles Aang on his chest with his heated breath, and secures Toph to his side with a hand to her back. Then, stronger, "Yeah, I guess I do."
When he decided to share his tumultuous past, he thought that he might shatter and they would rejoice at the gravity of his turmoil. But he should have known better than to assume his friends—and how marvelous a notion, to think that he of all people would have a group he is honored to name as such his own—will let him. He knows Suki had called themselves so earlier, but he doesn't quite believe it. Not until now.
"We won't let him touch you again."
It is said through a yawn as one by one, they nod off, until only Zuko and Katara are left to drift close to the edge of lethargy. She strokes tenderly at his hair, so reminiscent of his mother that he feels a familiar burning in his eyes and a lump at the back of his throat once more, all from the simple motion—or so he tells himself.
"Sleep, Zuko," she sweeps away the strands at his forehead before impressing upon it a tender kiss. "No one will hurt you. Not anymore, not ever."
Zuko can take care of himself. The way he's brought up, he's had to. Beyond that, they are at the very front lines of a war—any day, any second, could mean the last for them and they would have no way of knowing until it is upon them, so Katara's asseveration should not have brought him the relief it did. If anything, he should have denied it with the same dose of pessimism realism he approaches most everything in his life.
But perhaps, just this once, he will allow himself the privilege of their refuge. He will allow himself to believe in the vehemency of their promise.
I just wanted to go home, he had said. And this is not a place he pictured himself ever being in, trivialized to a mere furnace, yet strangely he finds he does not mind it (not that he would ever divulge this forthright), not even a little bit. The struggle and strife of his history, of his present, are unchanged, but an effervescence envelops him in spite of the five bodies weighing him down.
Maybe even because of them.
He closes his eyes when Katara has another go at running her fingers through his hair. He can almost conjure the ghost of his mother's smile when she used to employ the same tactics to lull him to slumber. He thinks of his uncle, mistifying and genteel and terrifying and loving all at once, sitting vigil at his bedside when fever and delirium took him during those early days of recovery, and long after then, whether or not he admitted to his desire for him to stay. He compares this house and everything it represents—a relic to his family's happiness—to this strangely colorful and caring mismatch of a rugged group that someway, somehow, just manages to fit perfectly into his arms. He tightens his embrace, and it suddenly hits him.
He supposes home was something he could carry with him all along.
"Sleep," Katara hums.
And so he does.
-//////-
Later, much later, when the power from the comet has receded to the faintest of throbs, and his sister is sedated and heavily guarded while his father is in chains at the bottom of the most isolated prison in the Fire Nation, their fates to be decided in the coming weeks by a tribunal composed of the remaining leaders from all nations—when he retires to his room in lieu of that of the Fire Lord's (despite the mantle and all it entails, both the sordid and the noble, falling solely onto his shoulders), and he sports yet another scar, a burn, that he will bear just as proudly as the first and more fiercely than even his eminent title, for there was no higher honor than protecting a friend—when his uncle has resumed his seat, snoring soundly and deservedly on an armchair at the side of his vast four-poster, always at his side as if they had never parted for even one second, and he is sandwiched between his two most favorite twelve-year olds in the world, Toph as unmindful of his injury as one would expect her to be when she plants her sleep-dead body right atop his chest, and Aang entirely all too much, curled into a ball that hardly breaches his space, apart from his head as he dozes lightly on his shoulder—when Sokka and Suki are passed out at the foot of his bed, his leg a pillow for their weary heads and their bodies as tangled onto each other despite Sokka's own bandaged leg (like the kindred souls he knows them to be, like magnets helpless against each other's pull), and Katara has expelled the last of her curative waters on him, much to his insistence that he doesn't need it any longer, before she sinks into the only unoccupied space above him on his bed—when they lie there in the first quiet they've achieved since they all adjourned here, their heads touching and their breathing in sync—he opens his eyes.
"You did it, Zuko," Katara's voice is a susurrant trill tinged with exaltation and pride. "You're home."
As he does then, he does again now, and tightens his hold—a hand to steady Aang's lolling head, another at Toph's back to still her fitful body, his leg pushing to burrow the blanket further into Suki's side, and the fireplace flaring with his breath to heat the figures he cannot reach. The difference in this embrace, however, is in the absence of doubt and the lack of fear, replaced with all the affluence of his adoration—unhindered and abounding.
"Yeah."
It is his turn to press a kiss onto her forehead, lips moving tired but no less grateful and indulgent.
Cradled in the warmth of everyone he loves and cares about, he is quite inclined to agree.
"I am home."
-//////-
AN: "Holding on to anger is like grasping on hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets hurt." —Buddha
i feel like you aren't part of the atla fandom and the zuko nation until you crank out one of these lmao. listen, listen, the beach gets cold at night so i just always picture these kids a pile of tired, sleeping limbs at the end of every day and all huddling into the only free source of heat, no fire required. let me live in this world.
come say hi to me!
#atla#atla fanfiction#the gaang#zuko#zuko fanfiction#honestly this is v self-indulgent fluff#the gaang deserves all the love & downtime#cuz they are just chiLDREN#zuko gets a much deserved hug#zuko + the gaang#altho honestly i think my water tribe sibling bias is showing lol#also zuko has a lot of repressed big brother instincts#so let him be a big brother!!#let him hug it out!!#i will die on this hill#yes i will#swishandflickwit ff
1 note
·
View note
Text
Breakfast in Bed
Summary: You and Javi spend the morning in bed together.
WC: 1.3K
Pairing: Javi G. x Female!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral sex (female receiving), p in v (unprotected), Javi G. being unbearably cute.
Notes: Another Javi G. moment for all of you. Honestly, this is extremely self-indulgent. I didn't have the best night's sleep last night and my morning was hectic. Javi, baby, please take care of me. Thank you to @magpie-to-the-morning for reading this over for me <3
In the morning, breakfast with me?
Javi had murmured the request into the bend of your shoulder, large hands pulling your back tight to his chest, his accent thicker as the heavy arms of sleep were swiftly pulling him under. The sound of his voice mixed deliciously with the cool linen sheets that laid loosely across your bare legs, tangled hopelessly as Javi did his best to get as close to you as possible. Your body ached from hours of him worshiping you, pressing himself as deep inside as your tight heat would allow, and with a high-pitched whine of please, he pushed in that much deeper. The answer is yes, of course it’s yes; but you only managed a soft nod before the scent of his cologne mixing with the sea salt air lulled you to sleep. He heard you though.
Javi always hears you.
When you finally wake he hasn’t gone far, your bodies shifting in the night, your head pillowed on his bare chest, his hands making a soothing pattern down your back, the sheets pulled up just enough to provide a semblance of modesty. You sneak a glance up, and you’re met with his smile, dimple wide and shining brightly.
“Good morning, mi amor. Are you hungry?”
Breakfast is over the top in its decadence. Platters of fruit, trays of pastry, all of them overflowing, more than you could eat in a week. You share this with Javi, a teasing grin nipped into his collar bone as the two of you sit up in bed, your naked bodies never moving too far from the other, the rising sun reflecting off the waterfront and covering you both in a delicious morning glow. He laughs at your joke, his lips finding that spot just behind your ear, smacking a loud, wet kiss there before he reaches for a piece of pineapple and brings it to your lips.
“Eat. You will need your strength.”
The sharp bite of fruit burns at your tongue before the sweetness takes over, melting slowly over your taste buds. You hum sweetly, eyes closing as you savor it, the juice breaking past your lips and sliding down your chin. Before you can even think to wipe it away, Javi is there, his tongue lapping gently at your skin, rising up to meet your lips in a pleasant good morning kiss. It’s a sweet back and forth after that, trading fruit for kisses, sips of mimosas that leave you lightheaded and sleepy, but Javi is there, the warm wide expanse of him holding you upright.It is lazy and indulgent, a breakfast fit for a queen.
“No for a queen,” Javi counters, sleep lingering in his voice in the best of ways, a rare moment of shyness peeking out from behind his smile. “For mi amor.”
You feel a sudden warmth spring to your cheeks, and that only seems to make him smile wider, seeing the effect his words have on you. He presses one final piece of fruit to your lips, a raspberry, plump and tart bursting beneath your teeth, his thumb tracing the curve of your mouth as he kisses a trail down the slope of your shoulder. His intent is clear but just like he did the night before, he takes his time, laying you down against those cool linen sheets and pressing his lips to every inch of you, a wet trail of sweet saliva left behind as he makes his way to your core.
You lose track of time as he drinks from you, hours it seems, as your hooded eyes watch the sun rise steadily in the sky. His tongue never falters, sweeping through your folds again and again, finess not as important as satisfying his hunger for your taste. Your legs shake and your cries grow loud, and he only moves faster, pulling you closer by the curve of your ass, burying his face as deep as he can until you're clenching around him, the flutter of your walls felt on the tip of his tongue. He delights in the pool of your arousal that fills up his mouth, groaning loudly as he makes a show of swallowing it down, winking at you from where he lounges between your legs.
“Sweeter than any fruit.”
There is a knock on the door, an offer of lunch called through the thick oak. Javi ignores it, once, then twice, before shouting angrily that they leave him be. But his eyes still shine, his smile is still wide, and when you crook one finger in his direction, he doesn’t hesitate to scramble up the length of your body, greedy lips capturing your own as he slides his entire length inside you.
It’s with the same hunger that he fucks you, hips slamming into your, the smack of skin on skin as thick fingers claw at your thighs, spreading them wide, and wider still, making room for him to move in closer. You let him take, are happy too; hands throw over your head, fingers gripping blinding at those white linen sheets, cries of pleasure falling from your lips.
“Louder,” he begs. “Let them know, mi amor. Please, let all of them know.”
It’s not an order but a plea; he is desperate for your love, aching for it and his hunger doesn’t stop at the foot of his bed. He wants the whole world to know you are his and you are more than happy to oblige, screaming out his name as you come around his cock. He will give you two more, insist on it, begging in that little whine that he needs you to come, that he needs to feel it one more time. Only then, when he’s satisfied he’s wrung every ounce of pleasure from your body, will he chase his own release, his hips canting faster and faster, until he’s screaming just as loud, your name tumbling from his lips like a prayer.
In the shower you hold each other, his hands washing his release and yours from the tender skin between your thighs, your hands making soothing patterns as you wash the suds away from his curls. He laughs, and you laugh with him. You kiss away the drops of water that cling inside his dimple as he cups your cheeks and whispers how beautiful you are.
When the last of the steam clears, your bodies clean and dry, you make your way back into his bedchambers, eyes searching for the clothes Javi had so quickly stripped you of the night before. The search is fruitless and before you can turn to ask where they ended up, he stops you, one hand capturing your wrist, the other motioning to the sky. The sun is starting to dip back down now, the rays catching at your eye line where they are just barely out of sight, gone to warm the other side of the house.
“Look at the sun, mi mor. It is time for a siesta, yes?”
He doesn’t give you room to answer, pulling you back into the bed, sheets fresh and crisp, changed while you were pressed together in the shower and pulled down just enough for you to slip beneath them. His head finds your chest and your hands find his curls, making a soothing pattern through them, still damp, the smell of his shampoo invading your senses. The curve of his cheek is resting on your heart, his plush lips kissing at the bare skin of your breast. You can see the edges of a teasing grin, his tongue reaching out to trace your nipple, a happy sigh leaving him as he feels you shudder beneath him.
He does it one more time, the bud hardening easily, but he makes no move to take more. You know, your eyelids already slipping shut, that Javi will always take his time. The pads of his fingers are barely brushing at your ribs, barely there but just enough to help sleep find you fully. Before you drift off, you hear his voice, a hushed whisper murmuring the request into the beat of your heart.
Tonight, dine with me?
You say yes. You hope he hears you.
---------------
Main Masterlist
Tag List form
Everything Tag List: @honestly-shite @jazzelsaur @mandocrasis @writeforfandoms @chaoticgeminate @amneris21 @allmahfeels @sergeantbannerbarnes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @fan-of-encouragement @nolanell @punkremus @thirstworldproblemss @leslie-lyman @sherala007 @doin-stuff @shadesofnerdlygrace @mindidjarin @hotchlover
@toomanystoriessolittletime @dazedrhapsody @lexloon @stevie75 @phandoz @floraandfrost @leannawithacapitala @musings-of-a-rose @tanzthompson @xocalliexo @dobbyjen @magpie-to-the-morning @churchill356 @practicalghost @lostinwonderland314
#javi g x f!reader#javi gutierrezxreader#javi gutierrrez x f!reader#tuwomt fanfic#the unbearable weight of massive talent fic#javi g x female!reader#javi g x you#javi gutierrez x female!reader#pedro pascal character x female reader#Javi G#Javi Gutierrez
315 notes
·
View notes
Text
the little things ; haikyuu boys
synopsis; the little things he does that show just how much he loves you
pairings; karasuno x reader, aoba johsai x reader, fukurodani x reader, nekoma x reader, shiratorizawa x reader
genre; fluff
warnings; will make u hate being single <3
karasuno ━━
sugawara koshi; whenever your hair gets caught in anything, he’s so gentle yet quick at fixing it. if your hair is long, and you pull a bag or a shirt and your hair gets tucked in, he’ll wordlessly pull it out. if your hair is short and a bracelet or zipper gets caught he just continues whatever he was doing (talking to someone else for e.g.) while helping you out. also always makes sure your hair isn’t bothering you; if you’re leaning over writing something, he’ll always tuck it behind your ear so lovingly ahhh
daichi sawamura; massages. he’s descended from heaven for this purpose only. his hands are rough and like hard on your muscles, but it’s so perfect. he’ll approach you when you’re in school sitting anywhere, from behind, and just knead his hands into your muscles for a few seconds. euphoric. or if you live together, he always greets you with back/shoulder/neck massages in the bathtub hvjkwkd.
nishinoya yuu; always makes you try his food. always. whether it’s with a group of people or just you two, he just goes “hey babe open ur mouth” with this face 😏 bc he’s cheeky, and just shoves a mouthful of food. spoiler alert, it’s always way too hot. but it’s just tradition at this point. he takes a bite of his food, decides if it’s worthy enough for your mouth or not, then just. yeah.
kageyama tobio; buys you a snack whenever he gets his milk. if you’re special special, he’ll buy you your own carton of milk. he goes up to the vending machine and automatically thinks of you when he sees your fave snack, and it’s like mindless at this point he just routinely does it. it still surprises you to this day, even when he’s so nonchalant about it.
tsukishima kei; kisses your forehead. tsukki is not too big on pda, and even privately he’s not very touchy feely either tbh. but just a simple peck on your forehead grounds you, and it’s a small reminder of the fact that despite his outward coldness, he really does love you. he rarely does it in front of others, but sometimes, he’ll indulge both you and him, and settle a small kiss on your temple just randomly.
asahi azumane; anime jesus always has a hair tie/clip carried around for you on his wrist/in his pockets. i mean he’s always needing them, he just stocks up when he starts dating you. somehow he’s always there when you’re frustrated with your hair all over the place what a savior. later on it evolves to him carrying around your scrunchie and yes the boys make fun yes he blushes but no he does not take it off.
tanaka ryunosuke; carries you on his back, or your things, when you’re too tired to walk. whether that be if you’re too tired because of your heels or you’re just lazy, he just loves helping you out what a respectful gentleman. honestly it just becomes that every time he sees you he like barricades over to you so quick and flips you onto his shoulder or spins you around. anyways. walking with tanaka means walking empty handed bc he will never let you carry anything. ( shifts pile of bags on one arm just to hold your hand ).
hinata shoyo; learns hairstyles to try on you. whether it be short hair or long hair, expect his youtube search history to look a lot like “how to make a french braid” or “cute hairstyles for short hair for your cute girlfriend”. he’s always so entranced by you and watches so carefully whenever you do anything on your hair, and he gets do excited whenever you let him try and he gets it right. also !!! a lot of the times you’ll sit between his legs and he’ll just softly card his fingers through your hair or lightly braid it.
yamaguchi tadashi; buys you flowers a lot. he doesn’t overdo it, just so it doesn’t lose its value and worth. but for example, mondays suck ass and he knows how much you hate them, so he always makes sure to either leave a single rose on your desk/in your locker or give it to you himself if he can. it’s so endearing and motivating honestly, and the constant reminder every once in a while is so cute. continues to do it even like 3 years in, which is so fkn sweet honestly.
nekoma ━━
kuroo tetsurō; plans the best dates. seriously. like not one moment spent with him is dull. i don’t think being with kuroo entails a high energy relationship, i just mean that even a walk in the park is fun with him. he also always knows when to plan a fancy dinner and when it’s just something casual. like he always puts in so much effort, gives 120%, for every date with you. is your favorite band/singer/artist in town? he’s got tickets. the weather is amazing? you’re going to the beach. you’re sleep deprived? nap dates. 10/10
kozume kenma; he teaches you how to play his games. the fact that he’s letting you touch the console in itself says enough, but whenever he buys a new one, and learns it thoroughly enough, he will always sit by you and teach you its ways. picture you sitting in his lap while he guides your hands <333 if you’re not a gamer, he’s actually v flattered by the fact you’re willing to sit through this w him. but if you are a gamer, expect daily competitions. oh and if you beat him? you’re dead to him :).
haiba lev; instead of reaching for things that you’re too short for to grab it himself, he just lifts you up lmfao. i mean w the way he teases yaku, i can imagine he’d be v teasing with you as well if you’re even an inch shorter than him. but fret not! it’s all in the name of love. he’s very loving though, and if he sees you struggling he’ll just wordlessly hoist you up from your waist or something. at first it’s terrifying, but later on it just makes you giggle cause he’s like so willing to do it and it’s effortless for him hehe.
yaku morisuke; always makes sure you’re taking care of yourself, but kinda aggressively? lmao anyways. like he’s always “babe have u eaten” and if u say no expect him to start yelling like “what do you mean no??? are you insane???” v dramatic but honestly <333 he’s always texting you after parting ways “did you get home safe” or on weekends where he cant meet you, he’s asking how it was, if you indulged yourself a bit, relaxed. it’s very sweet and he makes sure it’s not overbearing. he just wants his baby to be healthy and happy.
yamamoto taketora; walks on the side with the cars. it’s not a very noticeable thing, but you see it, and you recognize it. he makes sure he’s always walking where cars are speeding by, a hand on the small of your back guiding you away and to the other side of him. it’s the little notions of protectiveness like if he’s driving and stops suddenly, he’ll put a hand out to keep you from lurching forward, he pushes you gently out of the way before you bump into someone. things like that.
aoba johsai ━━
oikawa tōru; he doodles in your notebooks, or on your skin. if you have class with him, and sit next to him, he’ll always be doodling on your notebook like little hearts or stupid, cute things like your initials + his in a heart. or if you’re at a study date together, and you’re focused on your laptop screen, he’ll leave little encouraging messages on your notes for you to notice when you’re revising. sometimes you’ll be sitting with him at lunch or even if you’re out w him and a bunch of other people, and he happens to have a pen. expect a little smiley face on your inner wrist, or a heart plus his initials ( o.t. )
iwaizumi hajime; he helps you take off your make up/takes it off for you. if you’re too sleepy, he’ll just take the products he’s used to seeing you use and start following it step by step after he props you up next to the sink. while he stands between your thighs he just so gently starts rubbing at your skin and washing away the make up. if you’re already asleep, he’ll have to like google the steps oh my god im gonna cry hes so cute. if you don’t necessarily wear make up, then he’ll just help you do your nightly routine, or even your shower routine, like using a body scrub or a face mask or, bruh, even shaving lmfao.
hanamaki takahiro; saves everything you buy/send/make him. i mean everything. has literally over two thousand photos of you, all the polaroids or postcards are saved in a little box he has under his bed. anything you make him (unless it’s edible) he has. if you make him a small embroidery thing he will literally attach it to his sports bag or something. any chain you make him is automatically added to his keychain. that flower crown you made with him on one of your first dates? he still has it. the flowers are dead but the memory loves babyyyy
matsukawa issei; carries extra clothes of his for you to borrow. hey have i mentioned that mattsun is big? 😃 because he is 😃. meaning regardless of your size or height or whatever, his clothes will drown you <3 i see him as preferring more oversized or just loose shirts rather than tight ones, so yk. on you???? if y’all are just hanging out and you even think about being slightly cold — here have five options of mattsun’s clothes to choose from. he always makes sure they smell like him too. it’s self indulgent really, because he loves the way they look on you, and he loves that it leaves a trace of his scent on you. territorial? i think yes.
fukurodani ━━
bokuto kōtarō; always hugs you like it’s the last time he’ll see you. sometimes, even if he doesn’t know it, you need his hugs badly. y’all are gonna try and tell me bokuto doesn’t give the best fkn hugs??? yeah get outta here with that bs. he SO does. he either kneels down and wraps his arms around your waist, picks you up, and spins you around, like he hasn’t seen you in 3 years, or he’ll just wrap his arms around your neck and pull your head to his chest, cradling it, and just sighing like he won’t see you for the next 3 years. his hugs always make you feel so much better, even if you weren’t feeling down to begin with.
akaashi keiji; plays with your hands and caresses them. it’s the delicate feel and gentleness of it all. akaashi’s generally an anxious person, leaving him very fidgety. but once you two get together, and he starts being comfortable with you, expect to find your hand always between the two of his, just fondling with him. he’ll trace random figurines on the back of your hand, or have his fingers ghost over your wrist and up to your fingertips. if his hands are especially shaky, expect him to just grab one of your yours and hold it tightly between the grasp of two of his. it conveys trust, and all you have to do is kiss his knuckles gently and he’s melting.
konoha akinori; he has your reminders app linked with his, and sneaks in small, motivating messages. every once in a while you’ll get a notification from the app that tells you to drink water or have a snack (or text konoha he’s bored and he misses you). also always sends you pictures to distract you from stress. like it could literally just be a picture of him smiling with a thumbs up and you’d just ,,, melt bc you love him so much.
shiratorizawa ━━
ushijima wakatoshi; he has so many plants that are named after you, or your nicknames, and he’s like so gentle with them too. like strokes their petals and speaks to them so softly, the same way he does with you. you’re honestly so curious how he hasn’t run out of names, but he’s just a genius like that. whenever you go over to his place, and he’s bought a new one, he’ll take your hand and guide you to where it’s growing and just be like “look it’s baby y/n” and you just 🥺🥺🥺
semi eita; he has a playlist on his phone, that’s constantly being updated, for you and him to listen to. the first time he showed it to you, you were stargazing and he took out his phone and headphones and was like “i made a playlist for you wanna list” and every part of your body lit up in flames im not joking. now, a lot of the times, you’re coming back home on a train, and your head is on his shoulder and you’re sharing headphones listening to the playlist. when either one of you is driving you’re blasting it (a lot of the playlist is the hsm soundtrack)
satori tendō; tendo reads people so well, and being in a relationship with him means he will read you so well. so a lot of the times, in social situations, he’ll recognize the signs of you wanting to leave, for example, or if someone’s bothering you, he’ll know exactly how to approach it too. this also entails having a lotta inside jokes hehe, and also just like. talking with your eyes. yk that thing. yeah. all you have to do is look at him a certain way, and he just knows exactly what you just said.
goshiki tsutomu; he buys the both of you this small plushie, and whenever you’re missing each other you just. squish it. and he squishes his. he would rather die than let anyone know this, but you’re not too keen on letting anyone know yourself tbh. it’s just this little thing you have, and it means a lot more to you than just this. when he first bought it he was like “look we have matching plushies” and you passed away on the spot ❤️
shirabu kenjirō; loves trying out new recipes with you. he’s not too big on cooking or baking, but there’s just something about doing it with you that really — hits the spot yk. nowadays, whenever he comes across a new recipe on social media that he thinks you’ll like he just automatically sends it to you like with no words no texts just the post and you’re like “OMG CAN WE DO THIS” and he’s like “why else would i send it. yes we can :)” hvskwkeke
end note; thank you sm for the love on my last two posts!! i’m glad you guys enjoyed them sm. if you have any requests, they’re open and i’m happy to deliver, mwah!
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu headcanons#sugawara x reader#daichi x reader#nishinoya x reader#kageyama x reader#tsukishima x reader#asahi x reader#tanaka x reader#hinata x reader#yamaguchi x reader#kuroo x reader#kenma x reader#lev x reader#yaku x reader#yamamoto x reader#oikawa x reader#iwaizumi x reader#hanamaki x reader#matsukawa x reader#bokuto x reader#akaashi x reader#konoha x reader#ushijima x reader#tendou x reader#semi x reader#shirabu x reader#goshiki x reader
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Found: Ezra x F!Reader w/Cee
A/n: Part of the Prickle ‘verse. This takes place within the time-frame of Safe. A very self-indulgent look at what happened during their stay on the Pug. While not necessary, I would suggest reading Safe first to get a little more context. Cee is staying with her best friend on Puggart Bench while you and Ezra share a berth. Also, they mention a shower cabinet with a timer. I feel like this would be necessary on a space station because there would only be so much clean water in circulation at any given time. This story can be skipped if smut’s not your thing, it’s not necessary to read this to understand things that happen later in the timeline.
Warnings: This is soooooo self indulgent. Also very soft. If you're looking for dark, kinky Ezra this probably isn't for you. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Oh no, the idiots kiss. Soft yet graphic SMUT. Minors DNI. So. Much. Kissing. Feelings. A few hints of angst and insecurity on both Reader and Ezra's parts. Mentions of past relationships. Oral (f receiving) P in V (birth control is implied this is the future and all). Food mentions. Eating. Cee is a little shit and deserves her own warning. World-building because I can't help myself.
You wake slow like you always do, arm reaching out as you roll onto your belly, finding nothing but cooling sheets. You burrow your arm back under your body, pang of disappointment in your chest. The Benches are always so cold. You tighten the blankets around you, enough retained warmth that wakefulness starts sliding away again.
"Uh-uh," says Ezra. He shakes your shoulder. "Rise and shine, Artichoke, we got that appointment with the broker this morning." You sit up, still wrapped in the blankets. Ezra grins at you. He's already dressed and put together. He always seems to wake up early and chipper no matter what the local day/night cycle is doing.
"We got time for coffee?" Ezra smiles.
"Of course," he says, "I bring you to one of these meetings unfed and under caffienated, well, you might do a little more than just imply violence." You smile back.
"C'mon, Ez, I'm a professional. I've never once shot someone without your say-so."
"Best get a wiggle on," says Ezra, "Best to be punctual for these kinds of things."
"Right," you say and struggle out of the blankets, chilly station air prickling your skin with goosebumps. You find your duffel bag and start dressing, getting ready for your role in this morning's bit of theater, same as Ez. He cleans up nice, button up shirt with the first couple undone, good trousers, Jata-hide boots. Fashionable but not too ostentatious. Still rough, but with a bit of shine.
You are the opposite face of this coin. Full tactical gear and armed to the teeth. Your rail-gun is safe in the pod. Even the shadiest Benches won't let heavy weapons aboard. No one wants to see a ring depressurize over some petty squabble between traders. You've got your thrower on one hip, your gutting-knife on the other, a second gutter tucked into your boot and a handful of throwing knives sheathed at your left side. Honestly you feel a little silly donning all this gear in the Pug. The Pug is a massive hub, the intersection of several freighter and passenger lines, heavily favored by large corporations. Puggart Bench's security forces outnumber the standing armies of some of the smaller worlds.
But you don't question this, you've been to enough of these to know your role, which is mostly to stand there looking scary during the negotiations. I know what my job is, you'd said once, why're you all fancy-looking? You drop in on a broker lookin like a kicked cat and they'll try to low-ball you. You can't look desperate. Desperation is like chum in the water for these folk. You wanna look like you can take their deal or leave it, like you can system-hop and offload elsewhere. But we can't system hop. You know that, I know that, but the fella buying these pearls has no idea.
"Can you--" Ez tips his head, indicates his empty right sleeve. He can pin it up himself but it looks better when you or Cee do it, so you take care of it, fold the excess cloth neatly against his stump and secure it with a stick-pin, the kind someone might wear on their lapel, gold with a single, gently faceted trine-pearl, the tender pink of a kitten's nose. Cee's idea. She has a good eye for this sort of thing. Kevva, he's pretty, you think, not for the first time and probably not for the last.
"You look good, Ez,"
"You too." You quirk an eyebrow at him. "Terrifying," he amends, "But in a good way." You giggle. You both know this is just for show on a Bench as tame as the Pug. You give Ezra another once over. He's slicked his hair back, but that blond tuft has a mind of it's own, falls over his forehead in a silky little curl.
"Hold up," you say and smooth the errant lock back into the rest of his hair, your fingers brush along the curve of his earlobe, down his scruffy jaw and come to rest where his neck meets his shoulder, his diminished right side.
"Ez?" You ask. Your face burns. You can't look at him.
"Yeah?"
"We don't have to switch rooms, if you don't want to, I mean," you bark out a harsh laugh, "Kevva, I'm bad at this stuff." You glance up briefly, expecting dancing eyes and a teasing smile, but he is serious, his brows knitted together, lips pressed in a hard line.
"I liked what happened last night," you say, cheeks hot with blood, "I haven't been close with anyone in a while. I--I'm glad it was you, Ez. If you don't, I mean, it's okay if--" He reaches for you, rough knuckles brushing feather light over your cheek, fingers come to lightly grip your jaw, not to hold, but to remind, to direct your gaze to his, calloused thumb tracing your lower lip. Your hand curls tighter around the back of his neck like it was always meant to be there.
"Careful, now, Prickle-girl," he says. Ezra's tone is light but he looks worried, the little divot between his brows deepening, his lips quirk up in a half-smile but his eyes, so wide and dark, is he afraid? "You let me hold you again and I might not be able to let you go."
"Who says I want you to?" Your heart has hijacked your voice before you mind can think to stop it and there it is, all out in the open, all these jobs, all these drops, all the glances exchanged, the little touches, everything you haven't quite dared to say. He looks as naked as you feel. Your hand on his neck, toying with the curls at his nape that want to go awry despite his best efforts at taming them, his gentle hold on you. You could back away and so could he, laugh all of this off, chalk it up to a cold station and skin-hunger, but neither of you do. Ezra presses his lips to yours, a tender, careful kiss that he does not withdraw from, his nose nuzzled against yours, breath fanning over your lips, a question that you answer with a kiss of your own, kiss his lips and the angle of his jaw and then you wrap your arms around him and hug him tight, pressing your face into the warm column of his neck. He cups the back of your head and pulls your tighter against him, my girl, he murmurs into your hair, my girl.
"Kevva," you breathe, when you trust yourself to get words out, "We still got that gods-be-damned appointment, don't we?" Ezra huffs laughter, warm breath in your hair.
"That we do, Artichoke," he says, "Where would I be without you to set me straight when I wander?"
"Probably stuffed out an airlock by now," you smile. He kisses the tip of your nose, a gesture that seems silly and intimate at the same time. Breaks the tension some. Whatever this new thing is forming between you, you both still have a job to do.
The coffee is fake, but the cream is real, as are the potatoes and eggs, brought up from downworld. Puggart's World is hospitable enough that they can actually export some of what they grow. The bacon? You can't tell real from fake. It's all just crunchy, salty fat to you. You and Ezra talk over your empty plates, about the upcoming transaction. You're offloading a harvest of tamsin nodes, crystalline gems that have aesthetic and scientific value.
"Now he is gonna pretend like he doesn't know the good nodes from bad," says Ezra, "He'll try to sweet talk us into taking higher than bulk rates for the whole pull. While I am talking him out of this particular line of thought I want you to look a little more menacing than usual."
"You want me to do the fingernail thing?" Meaning he wants you to unsheathe the big gutting knife on your hip and idly clean under your nails with it.
"Yeah," says Ezra, "I think that's just the right level of nonchalant threat for this mission."
"We expecting any real trouble?"
"No, not here," says Ezra. "Stay sharp though." The server comes around and refills your mugs, you dose yours generously with cream and sweetener and then curl your fingers around the ceramic, letting the heat leach into them. Ezra peels a hand off your mug and folds it in his own.
"Kevva," he says, "Are your hands this cold every time we're on-station?" You shrug.
"What'm I gonna do? Ask the stationmaster to turn up the heat? We're only ever on a bench for a handful of cycles anyway." He narrows his eyes at you, all the while squeezing warmth back into your fingers.
"You hear from Cee?"
"Got Kit's Ma when I commed," says Ezra smoothing over your knuckles, "They were still sleeping. Guess they did some sort of all night holothon."
"Good for them," you say, "Wish I got to sleep in."
You suck down the dregs of your coffee and settle up, enter the ring and do what you and Ezra jokingly call The Strut, moderately well-to-do Prospector and Hired Goon. You gravitate towards his right side, as you always do, without ever being asked to. He's not sure if you do it on purpose or if it's just you, protective as you always are, so quick on the draw when it comes to him and Cee. Ezra wonders if, in kissing you, he's screwed things up. He glances over at you walking beside him, all armored and ready for anything, looking straight ahead but smiling, just a little, just enough to curve your cheek. Your eyes slide over to his and your smile deepens, touches your eyes in that way he so loves but has never said. It's the way you smile when you see something new and beautiful on a drop, the way you smiled at the rainbow on C.J.'s World. Such a rare sight that he's committed each one to memory, but now you're doing it in the dim, close confines of the ring. That smile might be for him. That thought ignites his skin and makes his heart squeeze.
You catch him looking at you, and you feel like a teen in the thralls of first love, the way your face goes hot, the way your stomach flutters at his gaze. Just a kiss, but if it was just a kiss would he be looking at you like this? Looking at you like you hung the stars and kicked creation into life?
Ezra hooks his good hand into your belt and pulls you into a sealed doorway.
"You've got to stop smiling before we meet with this fella."
"I'm not smiling,"
"You're grinning like the cat who got the cream," says Ezra.
"I am not--" you protest, though you can feel your lips turn up and Ezra kisses your smile, a kiss that becomes deeper and more urgent, parting of lips and mingled breath and the soft stroke of his tongue over yours that steals your breath and makes your blood sing in your ears. He rests his forehead against yours, that smug little smirk of his crawling up his face.
"As much as I would like to march us right back to our berth and peel you out of this tough shell," he taps a knuckle against the rigid chest plate of your body armor, "We 've got to get our game faces on. You know what to do right? We need a nice combination of bored and prone to violence." You smile.
"You know I don't have to fake that part, right? These negotiations are like watching paint dry." Ezra laughs and gives you an exaggerated smacking kiss on the cheek.
"Don't forget the fingernail thing."
"I won't."
The meeting with the broker goes much as Ezra said it would. The broker's bodyguard gives you a tired glance and then returns to picking at his data pad. You scan the broker's office. It's full of green plants in ornamental pots, decorated with actual flame candles. You've been around with Ezra long enough to know that these are signs of wealth or at least the pretense of it. Water purchased over the limit to take care of ornamental plants, increased wear on the filters scrubbing out scented, unnecessary smoke. It's all for show, everyone trying to make themselves out better than they are to get the best deal.
"This is a good pull, demand is high, for the whole thing I offer 1.7per,"
"I'm sorry," says Ezra, "If you take a closer look at what we have on offer, you'll see that you are mistaken in your initial assessment--" This is your cue. You lean back in your chair and pull out your gutting knife and start paring your nails. You don't look at the broker or his hired muscle, just scrape at your nails, and examine them, blow a bit of dust off the end of the blade. The broker's hired goon gives you a look and you raise an eyebrow at him. He makes a show of dropping a hand to the thrower at his hip, but everyone in this room is familiar with this dance.
Eventually Ezra gets just what he wants from the broker, while making the broker feel like he got the better end of the deal. Ezra has that gift.
"We good?"
"Got more maintenance type stuff," says Ezra, "Nothing else that calls for your particular talents."
"Good."
"Walk on my left side, Artichoke."
"What? Why?"
"Because I would very much like to hold your hand."
By the time you make it back to your berth, you are tired and footsore and desperate to get out of your body armor. It starts to rub after a while, probably needs adjusted. Ezra pushes you against the wall as soon as the door seals, his mouth finds yours and there is real hunger in this kiss, his body crowded against yours, kisses you and fumbles with the catches and straps of your armor, stupid Kevva-be-cursed straps, he mutters when the two of you break for air and you giggle, pushing him back with a hand to his chest.
"I gotta stow this shit," you say, and Ezra frowns, "Come on, Ez, you know how bad it stinks if I don't wipe it out. This stuff doesn't breathe. I probably smell like a Kanvian swamp."
"If you truly smelled like a Kanvian swamp I'd make you sleep in the corridor," says Ezra, "Chivalry be damned."
"Besides, it'll be gray water cyclers on the freighter at best," you say, unhooking the straps of your chest plate, "We got what, one more overnight? I wanna take at least five more showers before we shove off." Ezra laughs, a big one that crinkles his eyes shut, and leans into you gripping onto your shoulder for balance.
"Now that is a true floater mindset there, Artichoke." You shrug.
"Learned from the best," you say, "It's gonna take me a minute to clean and pack this. You might as well go first." Ezra pouts, but his dancing eyes betray him. When he turns to walk away you smack his ass, earning an offended Oi!
"Sorry Ez," you say, "You've got a cute little butt."
"I have the flattest ass in the Great Arm," he gripes, smiling.
"Maybe I like flat asses," you call as he disappears into the bathroom, "Ever think of that?"
Ezra sings in the shower. Goddesses and Gods his singing voice is terrible. What he lacks in tunefulness he makes up for in volume.
"Daddy told me sonny boy you'll never be a spacer, way haul away, we'll haul away Joe, blew his ass off in the Green when he misplaced the fazer, way haul away we'll haul away Joe..."
"I think I love this idiot," you say to the empty room, as you wipe your armor down and stow it, that part of you packed away for another time, and you find yourself smiling, you've said it out loud so it must be true.
"Haul away Joe me boys, let's hope the mains deploy, keep it creamy me boys it's a floater's life for me--"
And when is the last time you've let yourself feel this, feel like you could be loved in return? Not back home on Falnost that's for damn sure, colony mindset there, every relationship weighed against genetic drift, against consanguinity, limited options, and you were expected to want only that, to expand the homestead, to never hope for anything greater than to squeeze out a clan of offspring while watching the station orbit overhead, the bright score-lines across the black of ships dropping out of jump, boys who wanted to get inside and plant their seed, barely out of childhood and told to secure their legacy on a fading world that was two generations from going to back into the dust that covered everything. There'd been one more considerate that the others, but nothing worth staying down that particular grav well. There was a girl on Katrin's Station that you'd spent a delirious hand of cycles with but then she'd shipped out with a shame-faced smile and a maybe we'll see each other again. Since then you've guarded your heart, but Ezra has worn his way in there, the way that tree roots creep through the cracks in rock and widen them over time, a change so slow it's barely perceptible until the boulder splits.
You let the water hit you and try to center yourself. I think I love him. You awoke tucked against his chest, ear pressed to his beating heart, his breath fanning your hair, wrapped in the warmth of his body. He'd kissed you and you'd kissed him back and he'd kissed you again. Be quick, now, he'd said, all damp curls and little rivulets running down his neck, be quick now, those dark eyes holding yours, crinkled at the corners. No way, Ez, you'll see me when that timer clicks off. But now you are scrubbed and clean and letting the water pound on you, stations always have better pressure than freighters, you tell yourself to stay still and enjoy the sting until the timer leaves you high and dry. You don't make it. You towel off and put on your sleep clothes and exit the bathroom and the station chill hits you.
"Ez?" He sits in the edge of the bed, face pinched in thought, his hand drumming out a mindless pattern against his knee. He looks worried. Oh, Kevva, he's having second thoughts and that idea hurts viscerally, a sinking in your gut, "You okay?" You peel his hand off his knee and hold it in yours. He looks up at you and it hits you. Ezra is scared.
"I've wanted you for a long time," he says, "I've wanted to kiss you and touch you and be your man, but if that doesn't happen-"
"What are you talking about? Do you not want this? I mean, I get it--"
"I'm not the man I was," he says, "I haven't taken a lover since before the Green Moon, I, Kevva, you could do better than a broken old floater like me."
"I don't want to do better."
"Artichoke--"
"You're being silly."
"Am I now?"
"Yes,"
"How so?"
"How long have you known me?" Ezra sucks his lower lip between his teeth and his eyes go distant, that same face he makes when he's running the numbers on a pull, "Two stands? At least? Not calculating for jump-translation--" You place his hand on the curve of your hip and brush your thumbs over his scruffy cheeks.
"Idiot," you chide, "If I wasn't okay with this what do you think would happen?" And he grins, that flicker of doubt replaced by mirth.
"I reckon I'd be nursing a broken nose and sleeping off a concussion in the infirmary ring."
"You reckon right," you say, "Now're you gonna kiss me or not? I could've had four more minutes in the--" Ezra smiles and presses his lips to yours, kisses you slow and deep and tender, not to consume but to know, to learn the feel of your tongue on his and the gentle pressure of his hand on your throat draws a low cry from you. Kisses your jaw, the ticklish place behind your ear and you squirm in his gentle hold, his teeth catch the juncture of your shoulder and neck and your hands fly up to grab his hair, he soothes the bite with lips and tongue, his hand slides beneath the hem of your shirt, stroking the soft slip of skin between your shirt and your waistband. He comes back to kiss you as if he can't bear to be away from your lips for too long, and his hand slides lower, briefly palming you through the thin fabric of your sleep pants, dragging the seam deliciously against your slit. He sinks back down onto the edge of the bed and pulls you with him, so you stand between his spread legs, his warm hand pressed between your breasts.
"Take your shirt off," he says, "Wanna see you."
"Same," you say, reaching for the hem of your shirt and yanking it upwards, "You're pretty, Ez. Let me see you." You shuck out of yours and help him with his.
"I'm pretty?"
"You know you're pretty."
"Oh, Kevva, not like you--" You try to back up, suddenly shy under his eyes. You've not given much thought to how others see you, covered in dust back home, covered in body armor now, you don't look like the women in the holos from central, yours is a body built by pulling rocks out of the ground and tempered by lean seasons, never mattered before.
"Ez--"
"Hush, pretty girl. Hush." He caresses you, first the back of his hand and then his finger tips and palm, tracing over the curving juncture between your hip and your belly, the gentle fold beneath your navel, soft intersection of hip and flank, silken paths of old stretch marks, traces all of this with a prospector's hand, his eyes dark with want, focused on you like he's pulling the most fragile of jewels out of the ground. He looks at you, holds your eyes with his, takes your hand and presses it to his chest, and invitation to explore as he explores, to gently map his skin beneath your palms, the tendons of his neck, the width of his shoulders, his body strong and scarred and soft, his skin so warm beneath your hands. He slides his hand up the slope of your belly and cups your breast, leans into you nuzzles his face against your clavicle, breath warming your skin against the station's chill.
"You're so soft," he says, and the wonder in his voice makes your face burn hot.
"Yeah, don't go telling everyone--" he laughs against your skin and hooks his arm around you, pulling you even closer, lays a chain of nibbling kisses to the swell of your breast, tongues a circle around your nipple before pulling it into his fever-hot mouth. You dig your fingers into his back, mouth dropped open in a soundless cry, laps at you slow and teasing, arousal spiking sharp in your belly, feel the cables of his neck beneath your hands, slide them up into his damp curls and grip and he growls against you, releasing one nipple to take hold of the other one, less gentle this time, sharp suck and graze of his teeth and you arch into him, his hand splayed against your spine, pinning you close against his feasting mouth, leans back and breathes against your spit-slicked skin, watching your nipples draw tight in the chill air.
Your breath comes in shallow pants. Ezra locks eyes with you, draws his tongue across your stiffened peak like a blade, slow and deliberate and when he breaks contact it aches and you mewl, a wordless sound of want, you shiver in his hold, head thrown back and eyes closed, your leg muscles tremble and if not for his arm hooked round your back, you'd collapse but he holds you steady. His name comes out of your mouth in a broken sob, oh Ezra, and you don't know the last time you've felt like this, if you ever have, if anyone has ever touched you like this. Through the haze of your wanting you feel him stand, pull you into his chest, warming your skin with his, nuzzling into your hair, your bodies flush, you feel his straining cock pressed against you, he nips at your chin and then finds your mouth, a searing needy kiss, and you roll your hips against his, the thin fabric of your sleep pants wet with your desire. Ezra makes a low strangled sound in the back of his throat.
"Easy there, Artichoke," he rests his hand on your hip to still you, "We don't want to end this venture before it starts."
"Ez? Can I touch you?" His breath comes rough and shuddering against your ear.
"Yeah, just--" You slide your hand down the front of his boxers and take him in hand, smoothing your palm over his shaft, velvet-soft skin sheathing his rock hard cock, you draw your thumb over his head and his hips jerk against you, hisses like he's in pain, his hand wraps your wrist.
"Ez? You don't want--"
"Oh, I do," he says, tongues the shell of your ear and then grazes it with his teeth, "But I got plans for you first."
He grins, guides you to the edge of he bed. "Lie back," he says, presses his hand to your sternum, "hang your legs over. Yeah, just like that." Draws his hand down your body, hooks his fingers in your waistband and tugs, you lift your hips to help him and you are bare under his eyes, his hand smooths from the valley between your breasts over the softness of your belly to grip your thigh. Ezra holds your eyes with his and kneels--
"Ezra?--"
"Lie back," he breathes against the skin of your inner thigh, before pressing a kiss there, "Trust me." Nips at the tender skin where your thighs join your body, one side and then the other, urging you to open, to splay yourself wide as he hovers there, so close that you can feel his breath against you in ragged, humid bursts, not touching you, not yet, just breathing you in, inhaling your scent, and this alone is enough to make more wetness slip from you. Ezra parts your folds with his fingers, spreading you, exposing tender flesh to his hot breath and the bench's cool air--
"Ezra. Please--" You're not even sure what you're begging for and then his mouth is on you, tongue stroking shallow into your entrance and then dragging up your slit, stopping just shy of your throbbing clit before delving back down. You hear whimpering and realize it's you, a string of muttered curses and pleas, you tremble with want, you are weak with it. He withdraws briefly and you lift your head to look at him, his face and jaw are slick with you, his eyes dark with desire but he's grinning, that slow, one sided smile that makes you want to slap him a little. He watches your face as he slides two fingers inside you.
"Kevva--"
"Shh, Artichoke, I've got you." Slowly moves his fingers stroking, twisting, curling inside and then he starts lapping at your clit, a gentle, languid rhythm, in time with his fingers, suckles at you then soothes the ache. Slow at first and then he increases the pace. Ezra brings you to that blade’s edge again and again, tongue and fingers working in tandem until your pleas dissolve into wordless whimpers and you buck helplessly against his face, your hands fisted in the sheets, clinging for dear life, and then he slows, reverts to lazy touches, sucks at the soft skin of your inner thighs before starting again, and each time the arousal coiled in your belly twists tighter, brighter, something bordering on pain. Time stretches like it does in jump-translation, the pass of his tongue over you, the heat of his breath, the soft murmurs of encouragement as he peels you down to your bones, methodically strips everything away except the pressure building inside you. Ezra suckles your clit, gentlest graze of his teeth and you break, clutch your fists in his hair and rut helplessly against him, cry his name for the whole ring to hear, your pleasure cresting and then collapsing in a destroying wave, your body contracts in a hard arc, you come in rippling waves, vaguely aware of Ezra's sucks and slurps and groans, the spreading wetness beneath your thighs. You drag him away from you by his hair--
"I can't, Ez--"
"It's okay," he says, He stands and pulls you up from where you lie boneless, sits you up so you can face him, he is glistening with your slick and come, leans down and kisses you, slow and soft and you can smell yourself on his lips, taste yourself on his tongue salt and sweet and musky, and you feel that tension in your belly building again, cups the back of your head to guide the kiss, so gentle with you as if he didn't just pull you apart, flay you until you were nothing but raw wanting. You palm him through his boxer shorts, drag the fabric along his shaft and he releases a shuddering breath.
"Take these stupid things off," you say, "Then get up here." You shimmy up the bed to sit against the headboard and pat the space beside you.
"Yes, Ma'am," says Ezra, and steps out of his shorts. He is hard for you, gently curved, red and weeping at his tip, his eyes meet yours and slide to the side just a hair. You know this for what it is, and it breaks your heart a little, the uncertainty beneath Ezra's swagger and charm, he doesn't see himself like you see him.
"Come here, you." You gently goad him to where you want him, sitting up against the headboard. You straddle his lap and kiss him, your tongue parting his lips, your hands cradling his face, his palm splayed against your spine, his skin so warm on yours as you press yourself against him. You kiss him and then draw back, his face held in your hands, kiss the tender place between his brows that furrows when he worries, kiss the line of silvered scar on his stubbled cheek, and then his lips again.
"My Ezra," you draw back a little so you can look at him, you thumbs brushing over his cheeks, no grin, no self-satisfied smirk, just him, kiss-swollen lips parted slightly. His eyes shine with emotion, limned in tears that cling to his lashes but don't quite overspill. You press your forehead to his and slide a hand between your bodies, "My beautiful Ezra." You take him in hand and tease yourself with him, stroke his head through your folds, against your aching clit, and then you press him inside, sink down onto him, slow, hissing as he stretches you, his hand grips your hip, you feel him tremble against you, head thrown back, neck tensed in tight cords, eyes screwed shut, lashes damp against his cheeks.
"Oh shit," he murmurs, "Oh shit, just, stay still, just a beat--"
"It's okay, Ez, it's okay," You don't know if you could move right now even if you wanted to, he fills you, you draw a hand down his side and he twitches inside you, and even that small motion is enough to draw a gasp from your lips. You begin to rock yourself against him, slow and gentle, and, oh Kevva, he touches you so deep, plants his feet on the bed to he can fuck up into you, his hand hooked around the juncture of your neck and shoulder as leverage while you grip the headboard and that delicious pressure is building again. You didn't think this was possible, something for trashy stories and porn vids. No one has ever made you come more than once, but here you are drawn out along that knife's edge again. Ezra's breath comes in hard pants, a murmured string of endearments and obscenities.
"Oh, Kevva, oh oh fuck, gods you're tight, oh shit--" You have no words, only breathy cries as he spears into you, as you grind against him.
"Prickle, not gonna last, where--"
"Inside. Inside I'm safe--" he snaps his hips up into yours, fast, brutal strokes, pulls a nipple into his mouth and bites, and you shatter, you fragment, you ignite from deep inside, helpless as he fucks you, breathing his name over and over like praying, dig your fingers hard into his shoulders as your pleasure crests and falls over and over again, you feel him spasm inside you, fever hot and you collapse against him, trembling in his hold, your face buried in the juncture of his neck and shoulder, shudders that come in waves even as he softens inside you, his hand cups the back of your head. My girl. My prickly girl. My very own.
"I told you this was a dumb idea," you say.
"Hmm, indeed you did." Says Ezra, "Fifteen minutes in the shower feels a lot longer when you're all by your lonesome." The two of you stand pressed together in the shower cabinet, waiting for the timer to reset, soapy and shivering.
"When this timer resets we rinse off. No more shenanigans. I am not shipping out with a soapy butt crack," you say, "My skin's already dry enough as it is."
"You can't blame me, Artichoke," says Ezra, smoothing his hand down your spine and gripping your ass, "You are a slippery vision. I couldn't help but touch."
"Menace."
"Mmm-hmm." You lean into his warmth. Waiting for the indicator light to turn green.
"Hey Ez? When did you know? I mean, that you, that we--"
"Since the first time we met."
"Ezra!" You smack his arm playfully, "I planted you on the deck-plating!"
"And I was instantly charmed by your ferocity."
"You were probably concussed." Ezra laughs.
"How bout you?" Asks Ezra, "When did you know?" You shake your head. There are a thousand instances of warmth and kindness, but nothing that shouts as a defining moment.
"I'm not sure," you say, "You just kinda snuck up on me. You've never made me feel like a dumb dirt-farmer. That's part of it." You frown.
"It's like when you're looking everywhere for something, like your pod-starter or your comm rig and you feel like you're losing your mind and it was right there in your back pocket the whole time. Sorry. That sounds dumb as hell."
"No it doesn't," he says, "Not even a little. I'm glad you found me." Ezra kisses your temple and then makes a face.
"Ez?"
"Your shampoo tastes terrible." You start laughing and so does he. You hold each other, slick and giggling, until the timer-light blinks green.
The two of you wait on the dock. Cee is late, but not late enough to worry yet.
"Once Cee finds out we'll never hear the end of it," you say.
"Who says we have to tell her?" says Ezra, "Kevva knows she's been irritating enough in her matchmaking attempts. I say we let the young lady stew for a bit. She's smart enough. She'll figure it out eventually."
"A secret affair, huh? Sounds fun."
Things are fairly normal until you are inbound to Jocasta Bench.
"How would you feel about your own berth, Little Bird?" Says Ezra, "We got funds enough. It won't be Hotel Central, but it's better than sleeping in the pod for a hand of cycles." Cee narrows her eyes.
"I rate my own berth all the sudden? Why?"
"Why not?" says Ezra, "We're stuck in this tin can all the time. Don't you crave some privacy?" Cee shoots Ezra long, calculating look, then glances at you as you pretend to be very interested in the dropper's manual.
"Ohmygod!," says Cee, her face opening in the biggest shit-eating grin you've ever seen, "You guys are gonna hook up!"
"No we're not!"
"Cee! Boundaries!"
"You are! You totally are! Kevva knows you've been working up to it--"
"You don't know anything of the kind-" Cee holds a hand in the air to silence Ezra. She does this when she's writing a sticky bit of prose or parsing coordinates or sussing out some mechanical problem with the pod.
"Oh! OH! You guys hooked up when we were on the Pug last! When I was staying with Kit!"
"No--"
"What makes you think so?--" Cee laughs and claps her hands.
"You did! You absolutely did! I can see it all over your dumb faces!" You look at Ezra and he shrugs.
"You've got to understand that people have needs, Birdie--"
"Oh shit," says Cee and frowns.
"Oh shit what?" You ask, "If you're not okay with this--"
"Oh I don't care about that," says Cee, "This means I owe Kit 50 in Central scrip. Adjusted for interest."
"Wait," you say, "You owe Kit?"
"Taking wagers on peoples private lives is nothing to be proud of," says Ezra, trying his best to look stern.
"You owe Kit? That means you bet against us getting together."
Cee's ears and cheeks glow pink.
"Honestly, I didn't think you idiots were ever gonna figure it out," says Cee, "All that pining and yearning. It's kinda pitiful."
"It wasn't-we weren't pining." Cee just rolls her eyes at you.
"That 50 C-scrip is coming out of your share," says Ezra, "And let this be a lesson on how you should not pry into peoples private affairs."
The three of you silently work to square the pod away for docking and transfer. Ezra is a real stickler for having things tidy. I've run with crews where folk live like a squirming clutch of channel rats in a conduit. This dropper is little and battered but she is ours, she represents us as a crew when we are not aboard, so we keep her clean and well maintained. You float free as you work. The freighter's spin has already been taken up by the internal flywheels to make things safe for docking.
"I really am happy for you two," says Cee at length, "You guys are cute together. You deserve to be happy."
"Still not clearing your debt, Little Bird. Nice try though."
Tagging: @honestly-shite @oonajaeadira @writeforfandoms @the-blind-assassin-12 @fromthedeskoftheraven @keeper0fthestars @ezras-channel-rat @ezrasbirdie @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @yespolkadotkitty @radiowallet
98 notes
·
View notes
Text
Catching you dancing for the first time
Warnings: suggestive ig
Content: fluff, self indulgent
A/n: the tags are finally working 😭
Kuroo
• Its been a long day for Kuroo and all he wanted was to finally come home and cuddle with you for hours, but who knew that such a pretty surprise was waiting for him at home.
• Kuroo stares at your moving figure, following your every movement with a glint in his eyes while you dance to this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PxNzURtqZLc
• The music is loud and you are too absorbed in learning the second part of the dance to even notice his presence.
• When you have to move to your right for a part of the choreo, you notice him at the door, smirking like a playboy jerk.
• You freeze. Never have you ever felt such an embarrassment.
• Your brain is like “AAANICFENWUIFIEUFHIEWUFBUIWBISNSNIAU” anyway-
• You do your best to stay calm and leave quietly,so you stop the music and take your stuff out of the room
• but this mf stops u with a lame side kabedon
• “Where are you running off, darling?” his teasing tone makes u even more flushed.
• honestly if it wasn’t for the fact that you feel like dying of embarrassment, you would have hit him (cutely) and made your way out, but rn you can’t even look him in the eye.
• “Please let me go” your voice is a tiny whisper. PLS why are u like dis.
• “But i wanna see more of your dance, you were doing so good, and you looked hot.” His face gets dangerously near you.
• “Kuroo tetsurou. Let me go.”
• He chuckles and moves his arm “Alright, let’s dance together then?”
• You look up surprised. Despite the many months spent together, u two didn’t have the romantic slow dance you always dreamed of yet.
• “But im, im sweaty” you say in a low tone
• “I don’t care Y/N, let’s go” he laughs and grabs your arm, leading you into the room and grabbing your waist.
• You both slow dance to Kuroo’s light and smooth humming <3<3<3
Ushijima
• Practice finished early today, so your lovely boyfriend decided to surprise you with some flowers <3
• He thought that maybe you two could go on a nice date
• but when he sees you dancing to this https://youtu.be/I7DPpBSYxQU?t=23 his plans changed immediately 😏
• he just stares at you in awe, like :0 whie the flowers fall from his hands dramatically
• His mind is like “Maybe i shouldn’t peek like this, this is wrong, i should respectfully close my eyes” but also like “But she is so … i want to see more”
• so he ends up seeing your whole choreo and you notice him only when you have finished.
• You: 😮😳
• you cover your face with your hands in embarrasment
• “Omg Ushi.. since when were you staring” you peek through your fingers
• “Since when you ... uh, crouched down on the floor (?), im sorry, i shouldn’t have peeked, but you looked very ... endearing” he is at loss of word lmao, help him
• He thinks you looked hot and all, he just doesnt know how to say it, because he never had that kind of thought for someone before.
• You are: embarrased. “Oh, it’s okay.. thank you”.
• Awkward silence
• Then he remembers he brought flowers for you so he picks them up and gives them to you like nothing lol
• Kisses you so passionately, ur both horny now <3
• good luck
Bokuto
• tbh i kinda feel like its impossible to not notice him when he comes home because he screams “IM HOME” enthusiastically until u don’t come down and pamper him with kisses.
• But today practice was hard and nothing was working out for him so he went into emo mode :((
• Came home with a low and sad “Im Home...” with his sad owl hair
• but he doesn’t get an answer, instead he hears the loud music bombing in your room
• when he reaches the room, he gets 100% recharges!!
• You were recording this tik tok challenge: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pH7OFPxxhpk
• But he has already learn that choreo because Atsumu lol
• So he just joins you in midway and starts dancing with you
• When you see him you get surprised, but as the professional dancer that you are, you don’t stop dancing and just giggle while you watch him doing the same steps as you
• “Kou!! i didn’t know you knew this one, we could’ve learnt it together!”
• “Atsumu taught it to meeee, i would’ve taught it to you if i knew you were interested!”
• He so cute you just kiss him (If it were me i would never let him go tbh)
• “Then let’s learn another one together!” You offer him and he obviously accepts
• So you two start learning a new tik tok challenge (im lazy to find a new one, insert whatever choreo you like)
• He unashamedly ogles your ass if you do a hot move.
• if you catch him, he doesn’t even try to hide it, just grins goofily and flushes you against his chest
• You let him because, well, it’s Bokuto we talking about duh
Sakusa
• You were dancing to this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfecF8GJbzU when sakusa entered the house
• “I’m home” he murmured, but not hearing any reply, he went to check in your room where you were dancing with no care in the world
• I headcannon him as someone who just loves you so much that he wouldn’t dare to ruin this perfect moment where you look so free and happy
• He smiles fondly while he looks at your moving figure, he so soft for u <3
• He just casually enters the room like nothing is wrong, throwing himself on the bed and looking at you
• You don’t really notice him until you have to turn around for a part of the dance
• You block immediately, frozen
• “When did you come?” “Just now”
• you stop both the music and the dancing because ur shy to do it in front of him </3
• “Why did you stop? Don’t mind me” is what he says, as if it’s just that easy to ignore him staring at you dancing.
• “i’m not gonna dance if you stare at me” You huff crossing your arms
• He chuckles (btw his chuckle is so attractive even though i never heard it) “Why, are you shy?” he has this teasing tone that makes u go bfuewbfuebiuc
• “Kiyooomiii, get ouuut” you tell him, pushing his heavy body off the bed, but with no results
• He doesn’t budge, he is an ass istg <3
• “Okay okay, i won’t stare, look” he covers his face with his hands, peeking thru his fingers
• you just look at him like,, :muhammad dissapointed:
• “Let’s just get dinner, we’ll dance later Omi” “Fine.”
• Slow dancing after dinner pt. 2 <3
Fun fact: At first I wrote "He doesn't bulge" instead of "he doesn't budge" in Omi's :,)
#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#kuroo x reader#sakusa fluff#sakusa x reader#msby x reader#Kuroo fluff#Bokuto x reader#Bokuto fluff#Ushijima x reader#Ushijima fluff#Haikyuu x you#Character x reader#Sakusa comfort#Kuroo comfort#Bokuto comfort#Ushijima comfort
384 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
munsonthings86
the sweet escape
lithominium
Lithominium's Tumblr Account
angelitola
soy.yo
valonkuvaaja
Valonkuvaaja
shatteredfears-arch
ꭹꮻꮜ ꮋꭺꮩꭼ ᏼꭼꮯꮻꮇꭼ ꭲꮋꭼ ꮋꮻꮪꭲ